


Caged

by stay_light



Category: Winx Club
Genre: 4kids version, Blood and Gore, Bromance, F/M, Fairies, It is now, Magic, Swearing, Swords, Witches, Wizards, alternating pov between the guys, and for good reason, and sassy, brandon is everyone's favorite, everyone is terrified of helia, healthy sprinkle of angst, i just wanted to build on his character, im going to build on riven's background, im sorry for the shit im gonna put riven through, is red fountain a military school?, riven and helia are bros, riven and the guys' pov, riven centric, riven has a potty mouth, riven is dramatic, set through season 1, slight gore (?) warning, stella is badass, this is going to be dark, whoops i spilled the entire thing, wizard!helia, wizard!riven
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:53:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23401033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stay_light/pseuds/stay_light
Summary: Street rat. Dirt. Scum. He's been called these all his life. But as he runs into a calm, poised, graceful man in the dirty slums, his life is flipped upside down.In which Riven, a wizard, attends Red Fountain, the most prestigious school for heroes, and tries to keep a low profile.Or: a darker, AU-ish retelling of winx that's focused on the guys.follow me on twitter for updates, discussions, and fanart @staydrabbles
Relationships: Bloom/Sky (Winx Club), Brandon/Stella (Winx Club), Darcy/Riven (Winx Club), Flora/Helia (Winx Club), Helia & Riven (Winx Club), Musa/Riven (Winx Club), Tecna/Timmy (Winx Club)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 149





	1. Prolouge

Chapter 1

He ran.

His small, calloused fingers tightly clutched the fresh loaf of bread and two shiny apples as he sprinted through the streets, the heavy, stumbling footsteps of the vendor following him. His hair, wild and untamed, hundreds of reds, purples, and magentas, whipped behind him as he turned to look back at the fat old man he stole his next meal from, a grin spreading across his face, sticking his tongue out mockingly. He turned back around as the man yelled expletives and curses at him, and only ran faster as a response. 

He’d done this so many times before - he was silent as he snuck under the vendor’s table, grabbed what he wanted, and slithered away with his goods. Sometimes nobody even noticed. But it was hard to ignore the fact that a young boy, filthy, and dressed in rags, who could not afford even a crumb of bread, strolling casually as if nothing was the matter, with much more in his grip. Essentially, that made him stick out like a sore thumb, and that’s usually when the vendor would catch sight of him, and make the connection. 

But he always got away. He was never caught. After all, he knew the city like the back of his hand, the streets and tunnels, the secret passageways and shortcuts like nobody else did. If he was in a good mood, he would tease his victim before making himself scarce. And it was easy for him - he could be deathly silent if he wanted to, could fit into almost anything, using his small and light body to his advantage. Today was one of those days, where he would mock the rich man, steal whatever he wanted, and-

He stumbled for a split second when he felt it. 

It was strong. Unfathomable. Overpowering.

Nonetheless, he kept running, pushing away the fact that the feeling was getting stronger the longer he ran.  _ Get away from it _ , his mind said.  _ Shut up,  _ he responded to himself, knowing that the only sidestreet or to safety at least half a mile ahead, and looping back the other way was too risky - someone who saw him running earlier would recognize him, and either try to grab him or call the authorities. And he couldn’t have that.

So he kept running, ignoring the way the back of his neck broke out in a cold sweat and his heart thudded in his chest, clutching his goods tighter to himself as he looked behind him again, only to see that the fat old man chasing him was much closer than he thought.  _ Shit.  _

He slipped up, looking for too long, he thought, as he collided roughly with something in his path.  _ Shit!  _ He frantically shot to his feet, the collision having knocked him down on his rear. He made to run away, the loaf of bread lying in the dirt, stained, the apples having rolled far out of his reach - but he didn’t care, adrenaline was pumping in his veins as his eyes darted around, because the only thing he could think about was how he  _ needed to get out of here _ .

For the first time in his life, he was too slow. 

A huge, meaty hand, slick with sweat, grabbed him by the throat and lifted him into the air. He kicked his legs fruitlessly, his tiny, useless hands scrabbling at the vendor’s as the man viciously grinned at him. His enormous chest was heaving, ugly pants leaving the sweaty, middle aged man as he eyed the boy in his grasp as he would a dog deserving of punishment. “Thought you could steal my things, you brat? Thought you could get away?”

The boy tried to open his mouth to respond, to either curse or spit in his face - he couldn’t decide which one he wanted to do more, but all he could do was take in air in a strangled breath, trying not to suffocate. 

“Well? You bastard, look what you did. You ruined them.” He kicked at the loaf of bread with his muddy shoe. “Go on, you can have it,” he spat, squeezing the boy’s neck even tighter with a gleeful, disgusting leer, “you’ll just have to eat it off the ground, you worthless street rat.”

He couldn’t breathe anymore. He could feel his esophagus digging into his windpipe. His eyes shuttered shut, and panic settled into his veins, his whole body, mind, hell, even his  _ soul  _ screaming in self preservation, telling him to  _ break free or he would die _ . The tips of his fingers began to burn, then spread up his arms, chest, encasing his whole body as a bright light burst behind his eyelids, and he was on fire, burning from the inside-

“That’s enough.”

The boy gasped as he was suddenly, again, sitting on his rear in the dirt, the feeling of extreme heat now gone, almost as if it had never even been there. Had he imagined it? He slowly turned his head, blinking slowly in belated surprise as beige, oddly familiar to him, filled his vision. He shook himself, clearing his head of unnecessary thoughts as he tried to understand just what the hell happened. He realized that the wall of beige was a man - the same man that he had run into, causing this whole mess. 

He was about to snarl in anger at the man, who was dressed in long, flowing beige and white robe, with an odd staff in his hand, when he inhaled sharply, his eyes widening. That feeling. It was coming from  _ this person.  _ He scrambled back, still on his rear, sitting in the dirt road, as he practically shook in fear from  _ one man.  _ “W-wha-”

He stopped as he felt something against his hand, halting his feeble attempt to get the hell away from the man with the long , greying black hair and his weird golden staff. He went against every instinct in his body that told him to keep his eyes on that person in front of him no matter what, turning to look behind him, and nearly threw up right then and there. 

The vendor. The vendor that nearly killed him was lying on the ground, unconscious -  _ dead?  _ \- covered in blood and burns, his limbs set at grotesque angles. And the smell, oh  _ God _ \- it took all of his willpower to suck up the urge to be sick, covering his mouth with his hands, tears forming in his eyes at the horrific sight. 

He heard a step. He whipped back to the man in front of him,body shaking in raw, primal fear - would he end up like the vendor? He was frozen in place as he stared into cool grey eyes, his breathing erratic, bile rising in his throat, the acidic taste of it on his tongue, and he was sure this man could hear his heart beating out of his chest, because he was about to die, and he couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything- 

“Are you alright?” 

Hearing a voice from the man, who had not uttered a word since, shocked the boy. He didn’t even register the words, he just curled up into a ball, his arms covering his head, hands around his ears, as he broke down. He was muttering nonsense, his blubbering lost in his tears and sobs, sure that this was it. 

He didn’t expect the man to crouch down next to him - he didn’t see it coming, as much as he prided himself on his heightened senses. He was blocking out his senses on purpose, pretending like nothing was surrounding him as if this were a dream. The boy heard his voice again, repeating the same thing, and he flinched as he instinctively raised his head to meet his eyes.

And froze. 

Kind, intelligent grey eyes stared into his own violet ones, a look of so much concern that the boy had never seen in his life. And suddenly, the man’s words registered in his head, that he was worried for him. Why? Nobody had ever cared that much about him.

The man chuckled. “Well, that’s because I caused you to be in this mess. This is my fault.” 

The boy knew he didn’t say his words out loud.

He stood up shakily, the man following suit a few seconds later. “Y-your fault… you killed that vendor.” His voice came out small, hoarse, and still had an edge of terror to it, although less than before. 

“No.” 

The boy said nothing, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, confusion, and fear. The man must have seen the look on his face, the tear tracks staining his cheeks, the exhaustion in his eyes, because he sighed, knowing that this poor boy deserved an explanation. He was grateful that the street was empty - there weren’t many people to witness the act in the first place, but those that had had fled immediately. 

“He isn’t dead, but he did come close.” The man watched as the boy’s shoulders drooped in slight relief. He sighed before he continued, knowing what was coming. “But it was you that did that to him.” 

“You lie.” 

The man raised an eyebrow as the boy glared at him defyingly. He expected him to shout, curse at him, perhaps burst into tears, but here he was, his voice full of confidence as if he knew something the man didn’t. 

“I felt it earlier.” There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other, the boy’s eyes full of mistrust and fear, the mans’ displaying confusion and intriguement. The boy took a moment to put  _ that feeling  _ into words. “I felt...you. Your presence. It was strong, like it was suffocating me. I felt it all the way from the market.”

The man’s eyes widened now. He had formulated a few theories about this child in the few minutes of seeing him, but  _ this…  _ “You could feel my power?”

“Yes. And you had enough of it to do  _ that _ ,” the boy replied as he gestured behind him, still not willing to look at the vendor again, “which means it was you.”

It was ironic - if he had actually turned around, he would notice that the vendor was gone, the man he was staring at having transported him elsewhere long ago to heal. If he had turned, he could have blamed the man even more.

“You’re right,” the man said, but he shook his head sadly, a juxtaposition to his words, “I do have the power to do that. But I didn’t.” He took a few steps closer to the boy. To his credit, he didn’t budge an inch, his previous waterworks show completely erased if not for the tear tracks on his face. “I’m not going to hurt you, my boy.” Once again, he crouched by the magenta haired child, a soft smile on his face. “I am here to help you understand yourself.”

He wasn’t impressed. “So start talking.”

The man laughed at that. He was willing to listen - that was a start. He stood up, giving the boy the space he clearly wanted. “You’re a wizard, like me.”

A thousand things flashed before the boy’s eyes as he continued to stare, not saying a word, the silence deafening. Him, a street rat with no family, who was probably born to a prostitute, a wizard? No. No way in hell. Still, the man continued. “That’s how you could sense me.”

“But I’ve never done magic before.” He knew it was a stupid response. He was only seven - magic had to develop at some point. He wouldn’t admit it, but the man’s absurd statement was actually making sense to him.

“Oftentimes, a life or death situation will trigger someone’s magic if they haven’t awoken it another way. Which is odd, because sensory is a type of magic, but if you haven’t been aware that you’ve been using it…”

“Old man, you’re rambling,” the boy sneered, crossing his arms across his chest. 

“Oh! I tend to do that. Forgive me. My grandson, he doesn’t stop me when I mumble about this and that… it appears I’ve gotten used to doing it now,” he smiled as he thought of his grandson, who was around the same age as the boy standing in front of him now. “I think the two of you would get along. By the way, child, what is your name?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?” The boy sneered again, his teeth bared, violet eyes darkening to near black. “I won’t tell you. I don’t trust anyone. Let alone some old geezer who’s acting like he wants to hold hands and skip through meadows.” Seeing the man open his mouth to say something, he continued. “Let’s say I believe you. I’m a wizard. Aren’t you done here? Don’t you have some medication to take so you don’t forget your name?

The man knew that this was the boy’s defense mechanism, but it still hurt him to see a child lash out at what was probably his first exposure to care. He quickly smiled. “I’ve said this before, but I will not hurt you, child.”

The boy was beginning to cave. This stupid old man with that stupid look in his eyes was so damn  _ genuine _ . And he could tell. As much as he was good at sneaking around, he was even better at reading people, even at his young age. He clearly knew when someone was lying to him, and this man was not. But he had never, ever, been in this situation before, where someone was looking at him this softly, gently, like a  _ parent  _ would, and God, he was so confused. 

“And so what-”

“Come with me.” The man was completely serious, no trace of a smile, but his eyes were twinkling. 

The boy gaped. “Wh- wait, wha-”

“I happen to be one of the most powerful wizards in this dimension. I can teach you to control your powers. You show extreme potential, and I want to make sure you can harness them properly.” He stuck out his hand to the boy, which was slightly wrinkled, weathered with time. It was more than just a shake, it was an entrance to a new life, the beginning of something unknown and thrilling. 

The boy did not move to take his hand. “Who are you?”

“My name is Saladin. And you, my boy?”

The child, with the setting sun lighting his hair into a bright, blood red, stared at Saladin for what felt like years. 

And then he grasped his hand. 

“Riven.”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

A tall boy, reddish-purple hair gleaming in the sun, a pack slung over his shoulder, made his way on a dirt-packed path in a seemingly empty forest. He was early, he knew, but it’s not like he had anywhere left to be. Saladin had left earlier that morning, and Helia had been gone for the past week. Of course, he could have stayed for another day or two, to keep up the story he had told his friends, his roommates - that he was at a training camp, but he could just tell them that it had ended early. Or that he decided to skip the last bit. Either way, it wasn’t likely that he would see any of them, as the semester would start in about a week. Most of the other students at Red Fountain would be moving in their things in a few days, at least. 

But sitting alone in the mansion seemed wrong. Which was ironic, considering that he had been alone for the first half of his life, but still. Logically, he knew that he could have stayed and brushed up on his readings, or training, or hell, even taken up a new hobby. There were times where Saladin had to leave for days on end for a mission, disregarding his absence for the school semester, and Riven had used that to read the tomes in the library, or to simply play around with his magic. He’d once, when he was younger, spent a day simply watching the purple light sizzle in his palm, dancing around his fingers. 

But after being around Helia, Saladin’s grandson, his parents, and Saladin himself for nearly ten years, he’d grown attached. He liked Red Fountain, and the people in it, really, but he missed when he would be able to stay up late at night in the mansion’s library with Helia, pouring over spell tomes and history books. He missed watching the sun rise on cold mornings on the spires of the roof, Helia beside him, both bundled in blankets. It took him a while to open up to the other boy, at first cold, untrusting, and straight up rude, but Helia was patient, and now, Riven was grateful for that. Because despite Riven being a prick for nearly a year after they’d met, in the quiet, dark haired boy his age, he had found a friend, an ally, a  _ brother.  _

He’d begged Helia to attend Red Fountain with him when he started as a freshman last year, as had Saladin, but Helia had held fast and refused; he was a pacifist, an artist, and attended an art school in another realm. But he had an inkling that Helia was considering possibly attending Red Fountain; he’d stopped vehemently refusing, among other things.

Now, Riven stood at the gates of Red Fountain, simply staring up at the building. It’s cream colored walls were cracked, mold growing in the corners, and hot air was blowing through the open door, but this was his second home, and he wouldn’t change a thing. Freshman year had been an… experience. But he loved it regardless. The prospect of learning so much, being able to train and spar with boys his age (Helia had refused to do so), and living with his roommates that he could, albeit hesitantly, call friends gave him something to look forward to.

Sky, Brandon, Timmy, and Riven were so different, yet they worked together well. Their personalities clashed from time to time, yes, but they complimented each other. Timmy’s feverish thirst for knowledge was similar to Riven’s, but they were opposites as well. While Timmy was desperate for good grades, spending all his free time with his nose shoved into a book, Riven learned for the sake of learning alone. It frustrated his professors to no end, that he could be sleeping in class for half of the year and still come out nearly on top. In literature or science lecture based classes, he found himself dozing off, as he’d already studied everything covered earlier - either he’d stumbled across the material on his own, or his tutor (courtesy of Saladin) had forced him to learn it. After all, when Saladin had found him, he could not read or write. And once he had learned how to, he drank in as much knowledge as he could, about his powers, the history of wizardry, sciences, everything. Knowledge was power, and to him, it was merely another tool in his arsenal.  _ I sound like Helia,  _ he thought with a smirk. 

Sky and Brandon, on the other hand, seemed like two halves of a whole. Prince and squire, they flowed together seamlessly, but contrasted nicely. Sky, despite being a royal, was laid back, cocky, and devious. Brandon, the Prince’s bodyguard, was kind, loyal, yet strict. When they’d first met, Riven’s first impression of the blonde was that the stick up his ass must have been prickly. 

Riven walked through the gate, then the doors, and came to a stop yet again at the ground floor. He watched as a few students milled around - some were teaching assistants, some in clubs, preparing materials for the new semester, and others were simply there early, like him. He nodded his head as he saw Bishop, a boy in his year with purple dreadlocks tied up in a ponytail. Bishop saluted with two of his fingers in response, turning back around to pick up and move another box. 

Riven strode through the main floor, and climbed up the wide staircase all the way up to the uppermost floor. From there, he turned into a corridor and continued all the way into it, coming to a stop at the door on the right. He knocked once, and when an old, familiar voice said, “enter,” he did so, closing the door softly behind him. 

“You wanted to see me?” 

“I didn’t think you’d be here this early. When I told you to come after you arrived, I expected it to be in a couple of days.” Saladin said, peering up at the boy from his desk. There were papers strewn all over it; schedules, plans, paperwork - all of that. Riven could see the corner of a blueprint sticking out from under a stack of papers. 

He snagged it and pulled, staring at it. “Whoa, Saladin, what the hell?” 

It was a screw. A screw shaped building. A screw shaped building that happened to say  _ new campus _ scrawled in the bottom corner. 

Saladin merely huffed at him, and the paper left Riven’s hands as an invisible force tugged it back. It rolled itself up and flew away into a cabinet, the little door closing with a slam behind it. “Why do I even bother telling you to come up here, knowing you always snoop around?” 

“To be fair, I would have done that uninvited as well. What did that mean, new campus?”

“It’s a surprise. Wait it out and see.” 

Riven knew that even if he did everything in his power to annoy Saladin, he wouldn’t be punished (severely) for it. The old man liked him, thought of him as his own, and merely brushed off his antics as if they were just play. But when it came to official school business, of course, Saladin was professional as always. Which meant that the sheer amount of times Riven had served detention, not counting the instances where it was held elsewhere, Riven knew this office like the back of his hand. 

“Fine. What did you want to see me for?” 

“I just wanted to wish you luck with the new semester approaching. And to give you a warning-” 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t reveal your powers to anyone, keep a low profile, don’t do anything wizardly, Saladin, I  _ know _ .” 

“No, not just that. There’s something brewing. I can feel it; can’t you?” 

Riven frowned. He knew gut instincts, in magical beings, was not something to brush off. And this was  _ Saladin _ , one of the best mages in the entire dimension. If he said his left elbow was tingling, he was damn sure there was something wrong on the other side of Magix. 

_ I can feel it; can’t you? _

He closed his eyes, his frown deepening. When he focused, turned his mind inward into his own body, he could then project  _ out  _ and simply  _ feel.  _ It’s what drew Saladin to him in the first place. Sensory type mages - wizards especially - were rare, and for good reason. It took a lot of energy to feel all the life around him. He could sense everything - from the sluggish, slow flow of life of the plants, the quick heartbeats of the forest animals, and the overpowering, strong presence of the man sitting not three feet away from him. 

To a flash of light, of  _ fire _ , a flame burning so bright that it was blinding. It was far, far away, so small that he wasn't sure what it was exactly, yet so  _ full _ .

“What… is that?” Riven opened his eyes. He stared at Saladin, eyes serious. 

“I don’t know. That’s what concerns me.”

___________

  
  


Three hours later found Riven in the mess hall. It was sparsely full, a few boys here and there, taking their time with their meal, in no rush to get anywhere. Riven, who normally had a large appetite, was simply pushing his food around, hardly eating any of it. His mind was elsewhere. Because what in the  _ hell  _ was that? His stomach sank in worry. Worry for what, he didn’t know, but the tight ball of apprehension in his stomach would simply not leave. It wasn’t fear, he knew, nor was it excitement, but feeling that flame - and he had no idea where it was coming from, which was an oddity of itself - had put him on edge. 

So much so that he didn’t notice the person behind him until a hand landed heavily on his shoulder. 

He jumped in his seat, gritting his teeth to stop himself from lashing out, knowing that nobody would harm him here. It wouldn’t do to attack another student or teacher because he was feeling jittery. Riven settled for simply turning around on the bench, looking up at the figure at his back - and God, he hated looking  _ up  _ at people, he wanted to be on equal standing, dammit - and felt some of the tension bleed out of him at the sight. 

“Timmy. What are you doing here so early?”

“Could ask you the same thing, Riven.” Timmy easily swung down to sit next to him on the bench, setting his mug of coffee down, glancing at his roommate’s untouched, messy food. Riven pushed it towards him without a word, and ignored the ginger’s raised brow. 

“Camp ended early, and I was bored.” Riven offered with a shrug, feeling a bit lighter. 

Timmy studied the food that resembled mush on the plate, courtesy of Riven’s nervousness, and decidedly shoved it away, opting to nurse his coffee instead. “I wanted to set up my new computer in the dorm before everyone got here. And I have to manage a few things for the club, too.” 

“Sky and Brandon?” 

“No idea. Haven’t talked to them since the end of last semester. Probably still on Eraklyon. How long have you been here? I saw all your stuff unpacked.” 

“Got in this morning.” Riven picked up his previously discarded spoon, still piled with food, and curled his finger around the rounded end. Looking around the mess hall, he spotted Wesley, a stuffy noble he didn’t particularly like from stick-up-my-ass planet. Aiming carefully, ignoring Timmy’s soft sigh, he pulled back his finger, bending the spoon backwards, and released. 

The mush hit Wesley in his stupid, gelled-concrete hair, and chaos erupted from the other side of the room.

Riven, trying his damndest not to burst out laughing and thus risk blowing his cover, turned back to Timmy, a shit eating grin growing on his face as he engaged in conversation. 

He didn’t comment on the way Timmy’s mouth was twitching up at the corners. 

  
  


___________

Sky and Brandon arrived at the ass crack of dawn four days later. How, one would ask, would Riven know that his other two roommates had arrived so early? One just had to observe the jovial, too-happy prince jumping onto Riven’s bed at  _ too damn early  _ o’clock. 

Riven, now sitting up, too tired, confused, and angry to speak, looked to an equally looking tired Brandon standing in the doorframe, and made a helpless sort of  _ why  _ gesture. The blonde squire simply shrugged, dropped his bag, and left to go to his room. 

And left his prince on Riven’s bed, still babbling. He cursed Brandon in his head - the Eraklyons were roommates, why did he leave him in his and Timmy’s room - and kicked Sky off, sending him tumbling to the floor. 

“Riven, man, come on, I haven’t seen you for months, and Princess Stella-” 

“You couldn’t have waited another three hours?” 

“Well, yeah, but-” 

“Then get. Out.”

Sky pouted, his brown eyes huge and glinting in the dim light of the early sun creeping into the room. “Dude…”

“Not working.” Riven laid back down with a huff, throwing his blanket over his head, the dismissal clear. Not because he found himself slipping under Sky’s immaculate puppy eyes that got to  _ everyone _ . No. “You can tell me all about the pictures of her feet she sent you later-” 

“RIVE-” A pillow connected with Sky’s head, and he turned to glare at the other occupant of the room. 

“Sky, shut the hell up. It’s four in the morning.”

The brown haired prince shivered, and wisely closed his mouth. Nobody liked dealing with an angry Timmy. 

A few seconds later, the prince was at the door, a hurried, soft,  _ goodnight _ following his departure. 

_______

Hours later, the three were much more awake, gathered in the significantly fuller mess hall for breakfast. Neither Timmy nor Riven asked where Sky was, and Brandon didn’t seem inclined to say, which everyone was happy with. 

“Rough trip?” Timmy asked the blond, noticing the bags under his eyes. 

“Yeah, you could say that.” Brandon busied himself with his food. 

“Or you could just call it girl trouble,” a voice said from a few feet away. Brandon rolled his eyes. “And speaking of girls,” Sky said, setting a heaping pile of eggs, meats, swimming in a disgusting amount of oil down next to his squire, sitting down a moment later, “Princess Stella said she would call me today.” 

Riven wrinkled his nose, both at the speed of which Sky was eating the food meant to serve five, and at the words themselves. “I promise you, princey boy, that  _ nobody cares _ .” 

“Oh, shush, you’re just jealous,” he replied through a mouthful of food. 

Riven scooted closer to Timmy, not wanting to be sprayed.

“Oh, by the way,” he continued, halfway done with his meal, “a new arcade opened in the city today. Class doesn’t start for another few days, and we should make the most of our freedom.” Riven thanked whoever was listening that Sky wasn’t speaking with his mouth full anymore. “Sophomore year’s not gonna be easy.” 

He looked to Brandon for an affirmative - which was weird, Riven thought, because why would a prince ask his squire for permission? - and both he and Timmy nodded in agreement. Sky turned to Riven. “You down, dude?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Alright!” he spoke-shouted, gaining the attention of nearby students, who rolled their eyes. He didn’t seem to notice, and quickly raised his cup of juice, sloshing nearly half of it down the side. “To sophomore year, and all the rest to come!”

Riven snorted, and no, he was  _ not  _ smiling, but raised his mug (slower, not wanting to lose any of his coffee), as did Timmy and Brandon. 

“To new adventures and old friendships,” Timmy added, clinking his cup with Sky’s. 

“To comrades and bravery,” Brandon put in, joining his cup together with the other two. 

The three looked at Riven expectantly. 

He blinked, and felt a lump rise in his throat. He swallowed it down, and cleared his throat. “To us,” he said, his voice heavy with a rasp, and if they noticed, they thankfully didn’t comment on it. 

He added his own glass to the others’, and the four drank to a promise they didn’t yet know the meaning of. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took forever to update. I actually had no idea how the second half of this chapter was supposed to go, so I was just writing as I went. I hope you guys like it. To be honest, I don't know where this story is going aside from vague major plot points later in season one, at the end of season two, and towards the middle of season three.
> 
> Stay safe and stay inside!


	3. chapter 3

Sky was fuming on the entire trip back to Red Fountain. Even Brandon decided to steer clear of his prince, which was definitely saying something. Annoyingly persistent as his squire/bodyguard was, he knew when to leave Sky alone to fester in his own (real) anger for a while until it would die down. And damn, did it take a while to simmer down. 

Because Diaspro had come to see him off. 

It wasn’t as though Sky hated her, or even disliked her. He just hated the idea of what she was - what she was  _ going  _ to be - to him. But she’d changed. He remembered a few years ago, when they were coming of age, when she confessed that she didn’t want to marry someone because her parents said so, she wanted to marry someone because she liked him. Really liked him. 

It had been easier after that. The air around them went from full of tension and awkwardness to lighter and friendlier. Mind you, that didn’t mean they were best of friends - they tried to leave the other alone as much as possible - but when they had to be seen together, it wasn’t as bad as it used to be. Because Sky had thought her confession meant that she too was uncomfortable with the situation and didn’t want to be forced into a union with him. 

Until now. 

_ Sky was escorted out of the palace, Brandon and Gabriel, his personal squire and head of the palace guards, at his side. Their bags had been loaded onto the airship already, and all that was left was to board.  _

_ They were set to leave in the middle of the night, where it was less likely to be seen by potential enemies. Nobody except for a few select guards and his parents knew of the departure.  _

_ It had happened once, before, when Sky was a little boy, where the royal family left for another planet to negotiate trade in the middle of the day. Civilians had gathered outside the palace, cheering for them, wanting to see them off. _

_ And in the midst of all the commotion, a knife flew from somewhere in the crowd, heading straight for the King’s head.  _

_ It was deflected, of course, by Gabriel, but the damage had been done. Chaos erupted, screaming civilians and rushing guards, accusations flying as the three royals were ushered away by an entourage of knights.  _

_ It was from then on that any time the King, Queen, or Prince had to leave the planet or city, it was done under strict supervision, at an ungodly hour of night. It didn’t have to be said that nobody outside of the palace could know. Hell, half the palace itself didn’t even know - servants would wake up the next morning and notice that their lord was gone without even a hiccup.  _

_ Which is why Diaspro’s sudden appearance when he would leave for school, which she should definitely not know about, had alarm bells going off in his head.  _

_ “Sky!” she had cried, rushing towards him in a flurry of silky robes. He was frozen stiff as she threw her arms around his neck, burrowing her face into his chest. Her heady, overpowering perfume invaded his nose, and he struggled not to sneeze into her hair.  _

_ Beside him, Brandon made a choking noise.  _

_ “Diaspro,” he said, arms slowly coming up to awkwardly pat her on the back, “what are you doing here?” From the corner of his eye, he saw Gabriel sheathe his sword back into its scabbard.  _

_ “Isn’t it obvious? I came to see you off! I’m not going to see you for a whole year!” She looked up at him, still embracing him - he wanted to yank himself away, because were those her nails stabbing themselves into his back? - her face full of hurt.  _

_ “Lady Diaspro,” Gabriel smoothly interjected, “please bear in mind that the Day of the Royals is happening at Red Fountain this year. Naturally, you are expected to come, and you can see Prince Sky then.”  _

No, no, no, Gabriel, why did you remind her-  _ “Right,” he shakily said. He gently but firmly took her by her arms and nudged her away, and tried to step away.  _

_ She didn’t let him. Her hand shot up, and she grabbed his forearm, - and God dammit, her sharp nails were digging into his skin again - and held on stubbornly. “Still,” she persisted, “you couldn’t have come to say goodbye?”  _

_ Was he missing something? Diaspro was  _ never  _ this clingy. She would have to keep up appearances in front of their parents, sure, but never like this. She had nothing to prove in front of Brandon, and she knew he told him everything, and it’s not like she was doing this for Gabriel’s sake.  _

_ His shock was wearing off, only leaving room for confusion and building annoyance. It was too late - early? - for this, and the trip was a long one. He wanted nothing more to get on the ship and clock out.  _

_ “Sorry,” he said shortly. “Goodbye, Diaspro, I’ll see you soon.” Seeing her unmoved face, clearly not happy with his short words, he lied through his teeth, adding on: “I’ll write.” _

_ “Much better,” she crooned softly, and then leaned up and kissed him.  _

_ He froze for real this time, eyes wide with shock, because what the  _ hell  _ was she playing at, and holy  _ shit  _ he suddenly wanted to hurl. She pulled away after a few moments and patted his cheek. He could feel her nails grazing his jaw and he shivered, but  _ not  _ in the good way. “Goodbye, Sky.” And with her hand dragging down his arm, she turned and left, her hair almost whipping him in the face. Her guard he didn’t notice earlier followed her out of the courtyard. _

_ He still didn’t move. It wasn’t until Brandon spoke up - Dude, what the  _ fuck  _ \- that he blinked. “I don’t- why-”  _

_ Brandon, who, by the looks of it, was about to open his mouth and spiel, wisely closed it as he saw Gabriel shake his head, and stepped towards his prince. “Whatever, Sky, let’s just go. Pilot’s waiting.” He clapped him on the shoulder and quite literally forced him up the stairs of the ship. He hastily followed, throwing down a quick, “We’ll see you, Gabriel, bye!” as the door shut behind them.  _

_ The attendant settled them into their seats, but left quickly at a look from Brandon. He chanced a peek at his prince, and yep, there it was. Sky had quite the temper when he was upset. And as his dumb shock was ebbing away, it was replaced with anger.  _

_ “You wanna talk about it, buddy?”  _

_ “No, not really - I just-” His hands were shaking.  _

_ “Sky.”  _

_ “How could she do that? She said she wasn’t into me. I’m not into her. I don’t  _ want  _ this, Brandon, I never did, and I don’t know how I’m going to face her at the Day of the Royals, I can’t-” _

_ “Hey, man, don’t stress about that now. That’s months away.” His hand came up to rub Sky’s back as the prince put his head between his knees.  _

_ Sky was still pissed, sure, but that didn’t erase the fact that he wanted to spill his dinner onto the floor. His stomach was doing flips in his worry. He took a deep breath and sat up straight in his chair, knowing they were about to take off any minute. Brandon’s hand fell back to his lap. “Sorry, Brandon. I’m fine.”  _

_ “I have eyes, Sky. You’re not.”  _

_ “Brandon.” _

_ The dismissal was clear.  _

_ Brandon abruptly stood, internally cursing Sky’s betrothed, and went to sit at the furthest chair on the other side of the room. Sky just needed to stew in his own thoughts for a bit, and he would be fine.  _

Well, ‘a bit’ turned out to be well over half the thirteen hour trip from Eraklyon to Magix. Sky barely slept at all. Brandon didn’t either, worry for his best friend eating at him. Social butterfly as he was, though, he kept his mouth shut for the sake of his prince, even though the silence of the room was putting him on edge. He couldn’t text Stella on the ship, either. It was Eraklyon security policy that when a royal was traveling, all data and interweb had to be shut off, not wanting anyone to track them. He would message her when he got back, he decided. Stella rose with the sun, and that gave him about an hour or two of sleep before he could talk to - well, text - her. 

Meaning he was over the moon to see his other roommates - and  _ talk  _ to them - despite the early hour of arrival. He wasn’t expecting much, as Timmy and Riven were assuredly asleep, but barged in anyways. He jumped onto Riven’s bed, talking a mile a minute, before Timmy shut him up with a pillow and most definitely threatened him out. 

Seeing the slight smile on Sky’s face as he walked into their shared room, the prince having heard their yelling, was worth it. 

_______

Stella ended up calling when they were at the arcade. 

“Hey, Princess-”

Riven looked up from the pool table as Sky bit off his words and watched as the prince’s eyes widened in shock. Sky immediately laid down his stick on the table and pressed his phone closer to his ear, his eyes deadly serious. 

Riven slowly straightened up from his slouch over the table and made his way toward him. 

“Are you safe right now? Where are you? Don’t engage it.”

Timmy and Brandon were on Sky’s other side, Riven realized. They’d all picked up on the odd behavior, each of them getting increasingly worried. Riven strained his ears to hear Stella’s voice on the other side of the line. He couldn’t make out her words, but he heard harsh breathing and a panicked tone. 

Sky, realizing his friends were all surrounding him, quickly put his phone on speaker so they could hear her too. “I- planet Earth,” came Stella’s frantic voice. 

_ ‘Earth?’  _ Riven mouthed at Timmy. He just shrugged in response, equally confused. 

“Please hurry. I’m zapped, and Bloom doesn’t really know how to fight. We’re kind of barricaded in her house. 

“Princess Stella,” Brandon spoke up, “Whatever you do, don’t engage this thing. Stay barricaded for as long as you can. Try to find a back exit and run-”

“I can’t.” Stella’s voice crackled through. “Bloom’s parents are here, and they can’t leave-”

Riven interrupted her. “You’d prefer they stay there and die? Their house can be rebuilt. Just get out and secure everyone’s safety.” He had no idea who this Bloom girl was, but from the sound of it, she was useless in a fight. And she had her parents with her. Stella had three civilians holding her down. Bad odds.

“Excuse you, Riven, there  _ is _ no other way out. I’m not going through the front door where an ogre, a troll, and a dozen wraiths are waiting for me. No windows we can escape from, either, this is a shared building.” 

“Stop arguing,” came Timmy’s voice of reason. “Earth is about an hour warp away.” Riven noticed Timmy’s phone in his hand, opened up to an information page on the interweb. “We can get in a Red Fountain ship and be on our way in the next twenty minutes. Try to hold off until then, Princess Stella.” He grabbed Sky’s phone and ended the call. 

“Hey, Timmy, what gives-”

“He’s right. We’re wasting time.” Riven grabbed his jacket off the back of a nearby chair, and quickly made his way to the door. 

Sky ran after him, and they soon fell into step together. “Man, when she said she would call, this was  _ so  _ not what I expected.” 

_________________________

A fifteen minute walk turned five minute jog-sprint later, the four found themselves back at Red Fountain. Unfortunately, it wasn’t common for sophomores to just take a high maintenance warp-capable school ship, so they wasted the ten minutes they earned from their sprint arguing with Professor Varsh, the mechanics instructor. He also operated the ship bay, and authorized trips with any school owned ship or jet. And he wasn’t letting up.

“This is getting us nowhere.” Riven growled under his breath, a bead of cold sweat slipping down his neck. He slipped away from his friends, and strode towards Saladin’s office, his senses confirming he was in there alone, thankfully. 

He didn’t bother to knock, and quietly entered instead. 

“Riven, my boy, what brings you-” Saladin stopped at the look on Riven’s face. He was breathing harshly, and his eyes were wide in panic. 

_How could I not have realized before? Stupid,_ Riven thought, biting his lip in frustration. “Saladin,” Riven gasped, “I need you to portal us to Earth.” 

“Us? Why Earth?” 

Riven met his eyes, and Saladin was unnerved by the edge he saw in them. “Because that’s where  _ it  _ is coming from.” 

The three others were there in the office with him in the next ten minutes. As Saladin created the portal, a wide, blue vortex that sent their hair flying back, pure energy and cold striking Riven’s senses, Timmy leaned over to him and whispered, “how’d you get him to make us a  _ portal _ ?” 

“Don’t know. Seems like he really wants us to go.” Riven lied. 

“Boys,” Saladin said, and everyone stood alert. “This will be your first official mission. There is one fairy and three civilians trapped inside a house in a city setting with an ogre, a troll, and several wraiths wanting to get to them. Your job is to intercept them. Capture the troll and ogre if you can, but your priority is to the girls and their safety.” Saladin met their eyes, one by one, and his steel grey eyes were hard and serious. “Be safe. Remember that you are representing Red Fountain. But ….” he trailed off, and a slight smile graced his face. “You can’t represent this school like  _ that. _ ”

And with a simple click of his fingers, the boys, previously dressed in casual civilian garb, were in their cream and blue uniforms. Riven blinked, immediately checking his pockets - which he still didn’t know how pockets existed in skin tight uniforms, but hey, magic, right? - for his weapons, confirming that they were all there. To his left, Sky was squealing in delight: “whoa, Headmaster Saladin, do that again!”, and Brandon was blinking down at himself, pulling at the fabric. 

Saladin coughed lightly, and the chatter dispersed immediately. “You’ve been briefed and have everything you need. Get going, and get back safely. The portal will open up again when you need it to.” His eyes cut to Riven for a second, and he understood instantly.  _ I have to open it when we’re done.  _ He nodded imperceptibly in response. 

And without further ado, the four jumped into the dizzyingly blue ocean of light. 


	4. chapter 4

Saladin must have not aimed properly when making the portal, because the four found themselves in an abandoned alleyway, and no princess or ogre in sight. Riven didn’t blame him, of course - they didn’t exactly know where Stella was, and Saladin didn’t have senses as sharp as Riven did. But they were close. He could feel several magic entities close by.

And there it was. The thing he’d sensed earlier was much, much stronger now, burning, blazing, enormous in it’s fury, sending a flash of raw _fear_ down Riven’s spine. 

He really hoped it wasn’t the ogre. 

“Where the hell are we? Did Saladin send us to the right dimension?” came Sky’s voice, his worry poorly hidden under a layer of sarcasm. It had been nearly half an hour since Stella called, and they had no idea how she was doing.

Timmy was about to reply, but Riven cut him off. “Let’s try this way,” he said, leading them in the direction of the - hell, what should he even call it? - flame. They made their way out of the alley, though what looked like a residential area. It was hard to tell, considering it was dark out - which threw them off, because when they left Red Fountain it was still mid-day. It wasn’t terribly surprising, though, with the fact that interdimensional travel had horrid time differences. 

They heard it after a few blocks. Roars, yelling, and one high pitched, “ _Stella!”_ Sky took off immediately, passing Riven, who was at the head of the group. 

“Sky!” Timmy shouted, sprinting after him. _That idiot,_ Riven thought, scrambling after them, Brandon right beside him. 

Sky skidded to a stop as he turned the corner, and the other three nearly crashed into him. He opened his mouth, ready to scream, curse, or shout a warning, but Timmy, thinking quickly, slapped his hand over his mouth. “Wait,” the ginger whispered, ever the strategist. “We have the element of surprise. Let’s not ruin it.” Brandon and Riven peeked over Sky’s shoulder, and as they took in the scene, Riven had to muffle his own curse. 

Princess Stella, transformed, was lying on her side, not moving, in a bed of shattered glass. She was bleeding, from tiny scratches all over, but mostly from her head. _Shit._ There was nothing else out there with her, no orge or wraiths, and certainly no civilians. Riven’s gaze traveled up, and took in the broken window, and quickly put two and two together. 

“Everyone else is inside,” he whispered, hearing muted screams and crashes from within the building. “They’re probably going to come out and try to finish her off soon.” 

“Then we have to _move-”_ came Sky’s frantic hiss, trying to shoulder his way out of Timmy’s grasp.

“The civilians - that Bloom girl and her parents - are still inside.” Brandon spoke up in agreement, “we have to help them.” 

“No, _listen,_ ” Riven hissed, “they’re coming out for Stella. They don’t know we’re here. So let’s _set a trap for it.”_ Not waiting for a reply, Riven slithered out from the group, and quickly made his way to Stella’s prone form. She was breathing, and was still transformed, meaning that she wasn’t _too_ out of it. Minding the glass that crunched underneath his boots, Riven picked her up. Her head lolled, and a pained moan escaped her. He made his way back to the other three, still at the corner, and walked past them. He set her down around the corner, out of sight from the house.

“Oh, God, Stella.” Sky was there, crouching down next to her, and reached a hand out to take her wrist, checking her pulse. 

“Prince Sky?” she murmured, and her head lifted from her slouched position, her eyes distant and hazy. “You’re early.”

“Yeah,” he replied, and a crazy laugh bubbled up in his throat. _That’s_ what she was worried about? “Yeah, I’m here. Are you okay?” 

Brandon clapped him on the shoulder, getting his attention. He titled his head towards Riven, who had left Stella’s side when Sky had shown up, and Timmy, who were watching the house, talking frantically and gesturing with their hands. Brandon’s gaze locked onto Sky’s and he could see the question in his eyes, the way his brows furrowed in worry. He looked back to Stella, saw her eyes flicker around, and made up his mind. “Sit tight, Princess Stella. We’ll handle it from here. You’ve done great.”

“Wait.” She grabbed his wrist as he stood, stopping him in an awkward slouch. “Bloom - she’s still in there, and she has powers, but she can’t use them, and I left her there _alone._ You have to help her.” She was worried, talking a mile a minute, her voice filled with guilt and worry. 

“We’ll get her, Stella, don’t worry.” Brandon replied. “In the meantime, keep light pressure on your head - you’re bleeding a lot.” Sky gently pulled himself out of her grasp, and the prince and squire made their way over to Timmy and Riven. 

“What’s the plan?” Sky said, brown eyes hard as he stared out at the house, at the moving figures he could see from the broken window. 

“What makes you think we have a plan?” Riven replied, his voice light, but not enough to cover his worry. 

“You and Timmy could hatch a plan in a minute even if you two were stuck in a griffin’s stomach. Plan?” 

That got Timmy to chuckle, at least. “I’ve laid out a few explosives around the entrance and surroundings,” he said, hefting his gun to his shoulder. Gun was a loose term - more like a bazooka. It was a massive thing, as long as his leg, and as wide as his fist. He must have assembled it when Riven had grabbed Stella. Timmy was a nerd, but damn, he could be scary if he wanted to be. He was small, and light - Sky wasn’t surprised that he could sneak right under the enemy’s nose and not be caught. “I can detonate them remotely.” He raised a remote - more of a button, really - and grinned. 

“Perfect. And then?” 

Riven took over. “We’ll set one off to get their attention. When the big guy comes out, we’ll be waiting for him. I’ll be there, to the left of the house, under that awning. Sky, take Brandon’s hovershield and wait right on top of the entrance. You’ll be the first to attack. You can take it by surprise. Brandon, you’ll be at the right, behind those bushes,” he pointed to the shrubbery on the side of the house, which was a scant three feet from the broken window. “When the ogre comes out, go in and secure the civilians.”

“I’ll be the support,” Timmy said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at the fire escape on the wall behind him. “I’ll set up there and fire and detonate the traps when you need me to.”

“And me?” 

Riven whipped around, only to come face to face with Stella. She was leaning heavily on her staff. “Stella, you’re in no condition to-” Sky began. He looked like he was ready to catch her if she fell. 

She glared at him, and as if she was about to prove him wrong, she stood up to her full height. It pained her to do so, Riven could see that, but she held in her grimace. “What do you take me for? I’m the Princess of Solaria. I’m a fairy of Alfea. I’m not some damsel in distress that needs you to rescue my friend for me. What do I do to help?”

He was impressed. Riven didn’t have a lot of respect for Stella when they’d first met. He’d thought of her as a spoiled princess, nothing more. More so when she’d flunked her _freshman year._ But he felt a smirk grow as he stared at her, blonde hair stiff with blood and her clothes ripped and torn. But her back was straight, her shoulders were back, and she glared at each one of them in turn.

“Fly up to the roof of this building.” Riven tapped his knuckles against the bricks of the structure that was across the street from Bloom’s house, ignoring Sky’s spluttering. “Timmy will set up there instead, and you can help him provide support. Fire at whatever you see. Just make sure you don’t hit us.”

She sniffed at him, her nose turned up, but he didn’t miss the way her mouth twitched upwards as she turned away. She shrunk her staff down to a ring and slipped it on her finger, then grabbed Timmy’s launcher. Ignoring his indignant, “ _hey!”_ she held it close, and was on the roof in a short few seconds. Timmy scrambled up the fire escape after her. 

Riven was tugged forward by the fists in his collar, face to face with a furious Sky. “What the hell, Riven? She’s injured!” 

He untangled Sky’s hands from his cape, glaring right back. “She’s one of the strongest fairies we know. You can’t just expect her to sit by. And if you do,” he said, taking a step closer, “then you really don’t value or respect her at a-”

“Enough.” Brandon was between the two, pushing them apart, his blue eyes glimmering in the low light. “We’ve wasted enough time. We have to start.” He stared each of them down. “Good?” Sky backed down first, eyes lowered. 

“Good,” they replied together. Riven clapped Sky on the shoulder, and strode past him to get into position. Brandon handed him his shield, and did the same. Sky huffed a sigh, and threw down the shield, hopped on, and shot into the air. When he was high enough to be out of sight, he lowered himself down on top of the door. 

_Boom._

Timmy detonated a bomb that was close to the perimeter of the house, several feet away from where Sky was hovering, but he still had to right himself or he would fall over. He quickly drew out his blade, a broadsword that glowed a light green. He was ready, gripping the hilt of his sword in anticipation, sinking into a crouch. The ogre would be out any second n-

Out came a troll. It was no ogre. It was an ugly thing, its skin a deep blue, hair tangled around its face in oily, long strands, clad in only a loincloth. Sky didn’t care _what_ it was, though, he still attacked. Raising his broadsword high above his head, he leapt off the hovershield, his blade aimed right for the thing’s shoulder. 

It barely scratched him. 

With his sword stuck in the beast’s shoulder, barely an inch deep, Sky was quickly losing his momentum. He couldn’t pull the blade out either, there was nothing to ground himself on, no solid ground to put his feet on. It was either hang onto his blade and dangle there, or let go, lose his most familiar weapon, and get some space in between them. 

He didn’t get the chance to decide, because the thing had backhanded him clear across the yard. He collided painfully with a tree, the wind knocked out of him, and did he just hear the bark splinter behind him?

He struggled to get back on his feet. With his favorite blade lost - the troll picked it out of its shoulder like it was a _toothpick_ \- Sky brought out his other weapon, a double edged spear. _Fuck, where’s Riven where you need him? Or Timmy…_

He looked around frantically. He couldn’t take the troll on by himself, and he wasn’t suited with lighter weapons - if his broadsword could hardly pierce the troll, his spear wouldn’t even make a scratch. Brandon was still sitting outside the window, hiding in the shadows - why wasn’t he inside yet? - and Riven was nowhere to be found.

The troll wasn’t making any move towards him yet. Holy shit, did it even see him as a threat? Probably not, considering that it was just staring at the doorway, as if deciding if he should go back inside. 

A large figure walked out of the door. _This_ was their guy. Yellow, muscled beyond belief, and carrying a stench that could render anyone unconscious, the ogre made its way towards Sky. He tensed, ready to dodge if necessary. 

“Where’s the girl?” It growled, cracking it’s knuckles together. 

“What girl?” Sky stalled. “It’s just me and you out here, big guy.” His eyes darted to where Brandon just was - good, he’d gone in - and he very carefully did _not_ look where Timmy and Stella were. Raising a hand behind his back, he held up his index, middle, and pinkie finger, and curled his thumb inwards. 

_Go._

The ogre took a few steps towards him, each sending tremors across the ground. The troll followed behind like a dog. “Princess Stella,” it growled, “where is she?” 

“I told you, I have no idea,” Sky replied, a cheeky smile on his face this time. “But if you _really_ want, I can be your princess.”

It snarled at him, and when it took another step, the ground beneath his foot wasn’t there anymore. Timmy was a genius. With an enraged yell, it fell through the gap in the earth. The troll blinked, and after a few seconds, it turned to Sky, as if he was just realizing that it was his fault. 

Sky spun his spear, and sank into a crouch. “Alright, ugly, ready?” His eyes were not on the troll, but on a spot above his head.

“Who the fuck are you calling ugly,” came a voice from behind the troll. Before Blue - which is what Sky dubbed the troll - could blink, a wire wrapped around it’s ankle, and it’s feet were swept out from under it.

“Took you long enough,” Sky laughed. “What were you doing?” 

“Waiting for the right moment,” Riven replied airily. “Timmy!” he shouted upwards, and not a second later, a huge metal ring was flying down towards them. Riven, dropping his hold on his dagger and bola, reached out and snagged it out of the air before it could make contact with Sky’s face. It was huge, with a diameter of about a foot, and the metal sang with electrical current. 

Before Riven could move to snap it around the troll’s neck and immobilize it, something grabbed his leg, and now _he_ found himself face down in the dirt. The ring was knocked out of his hand as he grappled with the now free ogre. 

Riven managed to flip onto his back and plant a foot in the ogre’s chest. It didn’t do much good - the ogre was about three times as big as he was, and all he felt under his foot was rock hard muscle. _Shit,_ Riven thought, _should I?_ He started channeling energy, and felt it build under his skin, about to release enough of it to get loose.

The ogre grabbed his wrists, jerking him out of his concentration, and _pulled._ Riven was rushing headfirst toward it, and he couldn’t move, the thing was practically sitting on in shins. His vision tunneled, and all he could see was a huge fist, twice the size of his head, headed right for his face. 

Something blindingly white intercepted the punch, colliding with the ogre’s head. _Fucking finally._ It wasn’t enough to get him out of it’s grasp, but it saved his head from exploding, at least. 

Using the distraction to his advantage, Riven managed to wiggle his feet out from underneath the ogre’s mass, and swung his legs up to wrap around its arm. A quick bolt of energy that was easily missed allowed his hands to slip loose, shocking the ogre with a sting. With all of his limbs free, Riven, now hanging from the ogre’s arm like a monkey, _twisted._

The ogre’s shoulder popped out of its socket. It howled in pain, and Riven quickly hopped off - or tried to. Faster than he thought ogres could move, it held him up in the air with its hand - good hand, the other was hanging uselessly at its side - wrapped around his throat. “Little bastard,” the yellow beast snarled.

Riven panicked. Where the hell was Sky? Wasn’t he right there with him? Forget Sky, why wasn’t Timmy or Stella firing aga-

“No, no, none of that,” the ogre spoke up, and from the corner or his eye Riven spotted Sky, crouched to pounce, his spear held at his side. “One more step and he’ll pop,” it snarled, and tightened its grip on his throat. 

Riven couldn’t breathe, and _holy fuck this cannot be happening again._ His hands scrabbled at the thing’s meaty hand, his feet kicking uselessly, and dear God, he was seven years old again, small and helpless, and he couldn’t breathe couldn’t move couldn’t _feel-_

_Control._

It sounded like Saladin’s voice. 

Slowly, Riven stopped struggling, going limp in the thing’s grasp, even though all of his senses were screaming at him not to. As he intentionally dropped his hand, he brushed his pocket, and drew out a small knife. He spun it in his hand, and as the ogre said something to Sky, something he couldn’t make out over the ringing in his ears, he plunged the blade into the ogre’s forearm, sinking it all the way down to the hilt. 

The ogre roared in pain again, and was forced to drop Riven. He collapsed in a heap on the ground, a hand coming up to his throat as he coughed and spluttered, breaths rattling in his chest. He could barely get enough air into his lungs, and his vision started to tunnel at the edges.

An explosion got his attention, and he looked up, his head spinning, just in time to see Brandon emerge from the doorway with a redhead at his side. He didn't notice that Brandon was holding his right arm protectively to his chest, or the fact that he could hear Timmy shouting from the roof. No, his focus was on the girl, who had her hands extended out. He could feel the traces of magic on them.

Riven’s last thought was _oh, it’s her,_ before he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: canon? what's that? *laughs* don't know her 
> 
> also, if you couldn't tell, i kind of shift between brandon (who is still sky atm) and riven's pov. if it's kind of unclear when it shifts, sorry.


	5. Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually struggling with the whole brandon/sky switch thing. I don't know if i should refer to them as the other while they're doing the identity swap or not. but in the case of this chapter, this is all sky's (blondie's) point of view. He calls himself brandon, but it's still our goldilocks. just wanna make that clear.

He tried to ignore the way Brandon’s face contorted in pain as he crashed into the tree. 

Sky’s fingers itched to release his blade, a deadly longsword of blue phantosteel, but instead clenched them into a fist and waited. He shifted his gaze up to the roof of the nearby building, and forced a breath out between clenched teeth. Timmy was laid out on his belly on the edge, his launcher propper on his shoulder, scope to his eye, glasses shoved haphazardly into his hair. He could trust Timmy to make sure Brandon wasn’t hurt too bad. He turned his gaze away once more, looking past the shadows of the buildings and trees for Riven, but he couldn’t make out any movement. 

_Trust. He had to trust them._

He froze when he heard heavy, thudding footsteps approaching. Pressing himself further into the cold bricks underneath the window, he steadied his breathing to the quietest he could, and waited. 

The ogre stomped through the broken doorway, not even glancing Sky’s way. 

Breathing out a sigh of relief when the ogre was out of earshot, he waited another full ten seconds before moving. He crouched, his feet beneath him as he peered into the broken window. He could still hear the sounds of fighting - while he waited for the ogre to leave, he still kept a keen ear open. He didn’t want to rush in when it was still in there, but if he’d heard something go awry, he’d been prepared to jump in if he had to. 

But he didn’t have to. Most of the sounds he’d heard were the sound of shattering objects and raised voices, none of them in pain or too much fear. Now, looking into the window, he could spot the movement of a few wraiths scrambling into another room. 

Minding the broken glass on the windowsill, he prepared to hop inside, when he heard a shrill, “ _Kiko!”_ over the sound of a dog’s howl. 

Caution gone, he slammed a hand down over the glass-coated wood and threw his legs over, ignoring the pain in his uncovered fingertips. Drawing his blade, he rushed into the next room, ready to spring into action, only to gape at the sight that greeted him. 

The room was on fire. 

Red-orange flames licked up the walls, the curtains, and bathed the room - the main living area, from what he could guess - in blazing, shining light. A sharp, bitter smell filled the air, acrid and rotting. Two adults, a man and a woman, huddled together, arms around each other, faces slack with shock. A metal bat slipped from the man’s hand and clattered to the floor. 

A girl crouched in the middle of the room, hands hovering over a mass of white-grey fur. In the sudden silence, he could hear her whimpers and pleading words. Taking a step closer, he saw a flash of red on the animal’s fur - a dog, he realized, a huge mass that was crumpled into a heap with blood coating its side. 

But that wasn’t what caught his attention. It was the smoking, charred, black-red wraiths surrounding the flame headed girl. And he suddenly knew what the disgusting smell he noticed earlier was. 

Ten wraiths lay dead, burned to a crisp. 

He was still in awe at the entire situation when the woman, still curled in the man’s arms, caught sight of him. A small scream left her throat, and she scrambled for the bat the blond man had dropped, pointing it at him with trembling hands. The fire, still raging, bathed her face in an unnatural light, making her brown eyes shimmer into a hazel-gold. 

Oh, the fire. The fire that somehow _wasn’t creating any smoke or actually burning the whole building down._ The curtains were still intact, no blackened holes in them, and the walls and furniture seemed untou-

“Who are you?!” 

Sky turned back to the woman, and finally, coming out of his stupor, realized his mistake. He dropped his blade and put his hands in the air, palms outwards, trying to seem as harmless as possible. Which was stupid, considering that anything unfamiliar or foreign these people saw would be a threat. “I’m sorry for startling you. I’m not going to hurt you, I swear,” he said, willing his voice to be as soothing and calm as he could. “I’m here to help.”

At this, he saw the girl stand out of the corner of his eye. Keeping his hands lifted, he turned his face toward her, and felt his stomach drop uneasily. 

Her wide eyes, full of tears, were locked onto his blade - his sealed blade, the hilt only remaining - that rested at his feet. Her clothes were torn, and her hands were covered in blood. Her fiery red hair was in disarray, and as her eyes dragged up from his boots to his face, he felt something in his chest clench.

Because she had the most beautiful, heartbreakingly sad eyes. They were full of light from the reflected fire onto the sheen of her tears, but also blank with shock. 

He lowered his arms slightly, slowly, as to not scare her further. “You’re Bloom, right? Stella told me about you.” At this, her head jerked and her eyes seemed to clear a bit. “I’m Brandon,” he continued, stepping closer until she had to tilt her head up to keep eye contact with him. Her eyes were steadily becoming more focused, but he couldn’t rule out a concussion yet, so he had to get her to start talking. “What happened here?”

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out for a moment. Closing her eyes, she shook her head, once, twice, then sniffled. “I’m… not sure.” It came out more like a question than a statement, and she sounded so terribly _confused_ that Sky was taken back for a second. 

“That’s okay. Could you just tell me what you remember? If the memories are fuzzy, that’s fine.”

She drew in a shaky breath, and then spoke up. “When those things were at the door, everything went bad. Stella called you guys, and m-my parents tried to barricade the door to stop them from getting in, but…” A glance at the room proved the result, broken and torn furniture, shattered glass littering the floor like sand, and holes in the walls and floors as if they’d been caved in. But oh, _the room._

The fire was much smaller than it had been a few minutes ago. Calmer now, more timid. 

Sky didn’t mention it and kept a lid on his thoughts. “And then?”

“And then they broke through, and _I couldn’t do anything._ ” The flames rose higher as her tone did, and he swore the way they reflected in her eyes was _not normal_ . “I couldn’t do anything when the ogre threw Stella through the window, I couldn’t do anything when one of the-the-” She was getting angry, her teeth clenching, her fingers curling inwards, and her breathing became ragged. She didn’t seem to hear the woman’s - her mother? - tiny scream as the fire grew, licking up to the ceiling now, and continued. “One of those _things,_ ” she spat the word like it was poison, “ _hurt Kiko.”_

“Kiko?” He stepped closer to her, throwing all his distress training of keeping distance from the victim away, because the fire was actually starting to smoke now, and this girl didn’t even know that she was the one doing it. 

“My dog,” she said brokenly, and it was like all the anger and rage had left her, leaving her sad and hollow once more. She turned her head to look at the dog, who was still crumpled into a heap on the floor. 

“Oh,” he breathed, and made his way over to the injured animal. Bloom didn’t stop him. She simply stared from where she stood, wary. The dog - Kiko - was enormous, Sky noted once more, and his long grey-white fur was matted with blood at his ribs. Kiko had his face turned away from Sky, tucked into his paws. But he noticed that the dog’s side was moving up and down evenly, and the only noise he made was a soft whine as he breathed. 

And then Sky, crouched in the middle of a flaming apartment while his friends were outside fighting for their lives, laughed. 

As if he could feel the stares of the three boring holes into him, he stopped quickly, but was still smiling. “Sorry. I’m sorry, it’s just…” he reached across Kiko’s back, resting his palm against the dog’s forehead. “My dog, Lady, she does this thing,” he began, glancing back at Bloom, and beckoned her over. She slowly crouched down beside him, and he ignored the way his stomach did a tiny, happy backflip as she locked eyes with him. “She’d do anything to get my attention. I’d wake up in the middle of the night because she’d be whining like the world was about to end, but she just wanted to get me to pet her.” He slowly stroked Kiko’s head, coming to a rest at his muzzle, still buried in his paws. “You’re doing the same thing, aren’t you, big guy?” 

“Kiko?” Bloom breathed, finally _seeing_ her dog. Her eyes lingered on the way his ears perked back the way they did when he was guilty. A low keen escaped him. “ _Kiko,_ ” she groaned, and Sky shuffled back as she reached for her pet, grabbing him behind the ears and ruffling his fur forcefully. “You scared me half to death!” 

There was a light in her eyes, he noticed, and took a glance around. The only remnants of the fire, which was raging mere minutes ago, were the charred bodies of the wraiths. _Damn,_ he thought, _for this girl to have produced that much elemental magic just because she was mad…_

Sky caught a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, and felt as if someone had thrown ice over his head. 

Two wraiths jumped out of the curtains, headed straight for the girl that was still crouched on the floor. She didn’t even notice yet, her head still bent. She flinched as he rushed by her, diving for his blade. “What-” as she saw the two ghastly creatures coming for her, teeth bared and claws extended, she threw up her arms to protect her head, waiting for the worst. 

But only felt the warm splash of blood on her skin. 

With one hand reaching for his longsword, the other scrambled for his dagger inside his pocket. He flung the small blade, not watching as it flew end over end to bury itself in the wraith’s forehead, directly between its eyes. 

The second wraith was only inches away from Bloom, claws ready to tear into the flesh of her arm so it could sink its teeth into her face. He scrambled for it, and just as it was going to pounce on her, he grabbed it and pulled it away from her. He hissed in pain as it bit into his right forearm, teeth cutting into his skin and muscle an inch deep. He flicked his left wrist, and his blade unsheathed itself, and not a second later, warm black blood poured onto the floor as Sky withdrew his blade where he had impaled the wraith. 

Gingerly pulling the corpse’s teeth out of his arm, he winced as he saw Bloom shakily raise her head to stare at her arms, covered in a mixture of red (his) and black (the wraith’s) blood. She slowly raised her gaze from her stained skin to rest on his face, and then focused on the corpse he was still holding. He quickly dropped it, and pressed his hand to his arm, trying to stem the bleeding. 

“Oh my God, you’re hurt.” She rushed to her feet and over to him, ignoring the dead wraith at his feet. 

“Nothing but a scratch,” he replied mildly, even though to be honest, it was stinging like a bitch. He didn’t need the place to burst into flames again. Best to keep her as calm as possible.

“Uh, hello, no it’s not?” her hands hovered over the injury, as if she was unsure if she wanted to rip off his hand or put more pressure on it. 

“Okay, maybe not, but if those were all the wraiths, then I need to go back out and help my friends.” Striding over to the first wraith he killed, he planted his foot in its torso, and stooped down to pull his dagger out with a squelch. “Were they?”

“I think so-”

“Great. Stay inside, this should be over soon.” He made his way back to the room he came from, intending to hop back out the window and help Riven and Brandon. “You two as well,” he nodded to the man and the woman, who still seemed to be in shock. 

“Wait! Brandon, right?” Bloom was right behind him, following him wherever he stepped. He stopped, and she nearly crashed into his back.

“Yes?”

“I’m not staying in here. There’s still the two big guys, right? You’re going to need as much help as you can get.”

“Yes, but you’ve just spent a lot of energy-”

“Stella’s hurt and she’s fighting them, you can’t move your arm at all, and I don’t know how many friends you brought with you, but those two things are no joke.” She cut him off, and _shit_ , she was sounding angry again. “Besides, I don’t feel tired. I don’t know how I made the… energy before, but I can sure as hell try again.”

“Okay,” he relented. No use getting her riled up and starting something she couldn’t control. If anything, he’d leave her at the window. He didn’t want her to get hurt, seeing that she nearly had her face eaten off not ten minutes ago. 

He didn’t realize she had slipped in front of him, nor did he notice that she’d led him to the door, not the window. He sighed. Unsheathing his phantoblade, he crept forward until he was pressed against the inner wall, and peeked over his shoulder through the broken doorway. 

He felt his stomach drop. 

His eyes skipped over the troll, facefirst in the dirt with the tranq collar around its neck, and locked onto the ogre. The ogre that was holding Riven up by his neck, his face red, slowly going limp. The ogre that turned to look at Brandon, saying something that made him freeze in his tracks. The ogre that made him see _red-_

He must have made some sort of noise, because Bloom whispered something to him, and he stared at her blankly for a second. She looked confused, her brows furrowed, and looked over to the fight that was happening on her front lawn. 

It was odd, he thought, how they both pushed off at the same time, when they heard the ogre bellow in pain. He was off like a bullet, but only got a few steps in before he froze at the sight. Riven, crumpled on the floor, his trembling visible even at a distance. The yellow ogre, arms twisted and bloodied, snarling in pain and anger, taking two steps back. 

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, a flash of orange-red. Bloom was at his side, eyes hooded in concentration, arms slowly coming up, palms out, fingers splayed wide. 

And she let loose one of the biggest energy spheres he’d ever seen.

Fanart and notes here: [google drive link](https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1X5IHkTik-7_B4x02ZSrsCa4IhBVkYAR0?usp=sharing)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys. im sorry this took months to write, but im dying with 16 hours of junior level engineering classes. save me. but we have sky pov! and he and bloom meet! and kiko! (i love dog!kiko fight me)
> 
> i was doodling and i drew riven, which led to me thinking about little quirks and details of the girls and the specialists. i filled two whole pages of my sketchbook with handwritten notes about the girls and how i'll build on their characters and little things about them that i think makes them all the more loveable. i'm probably gonna draw a lot, so i'm gonna make a drive folder of all my drawings and notes. Here's the link! https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1X5IHkTik-7_B4x02ZSrsCa4IhBVkYAR0?usp=sharing


	6. Chapter 6

Timmy was freaking out. 

Stella had passed out exactly a minute and a half ago, and he was torn between backing up Sky, who was getting his ass kicked, or making sure Stella wasn’t dead or seriously injured. She probably had a serious concussion, and her head had bled a _lot,_ and Saladin’s words kept ringing in his head as he sweat bullets. His fingers shook on the trigger of his launcher, wanting to fire away at the troll, to help his friends, but the mission-

The mission came first. 

_Your priority is to the girls._

Gritting his teeth, he clicked the safety on, slipped his shoulder out from under the weapon, and looked at Stella. She looked like she’d seen better days. Her face was drawn and pale, a contrast from her normally tanned skin, and fresh blood was dripping down the side of her face. Her breaths were quick and reedy, and he hoped her ribs were just bruised, not broken. 

Timmy shook her shoulder roughly. “Stella.” A pained noise escaped her lips, and Timmy felt around her head, trying to find where the bleeding was coming from. “Princess Stella, you have to wake up.”

She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like _“don’t wanna”_ and if the situation wasn’t so dire, Timmy may have laughed. He felt wetness against his fingertips, and fumbling in his pocket with his free hand, he came up with a folded piece of cloth and pressed it to where she was bleeding. Stella made a noise of protest at the pressure, and her hand flopped weakly, as if she was trying to get him to stop. He snapped his fingers under her nose. She didn’t want to wake, even though his two years of distress training told him that her injuries weren’t that severe. She was reacting to stimuli, after all. 

_Well,_ Timmy thought wryly, _there is one thing that couldn’t hurt to try._

“Princess Stella,” he said, clear and loud. “Prince Sky said he found a girl back home on Eraklyon that he’s getting engaged to.”

Her face twitched, brows furrowing, and Timmy felt honest shock down to his bones. It would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so damn _ridiculous._ “Wha- no- wastha _bitch…”_ she mumbled. Her eyes opened slowly. She blinked once, then twice, and then they came into focus on his face. 

Her eyes narrowed at him. “Did you just say something?” 

“What? No,” he replied, hurriedly getting back to his launcher. He pulled back the cloth he was pressing to her head, and noticed it wasn’t stained too badly. “I was trying to wake you. Come on, we have to help Sky.” 

He readied his position just in time to see Sky’s signal. To signal for help, thinking that Timmy didn’t know when to fire and help… hurt. He allowed himself to seethe for a second at his own incompetence, but he shook the feeling off. “Princess, he gave us a signal-”

Stella was already beside him, eyes narrowed with concentration, hands extended. _Oh,_ Timmy thought. _I didn’t give her enough credit._ With a dry smile, he looked back into his scope, and when the ogre was just about three feet away from Sky, he detonated one of the mines he’d placed earlier. The ogre fell through the ground, flailing. Timmy was about to fire again, with the launcher this time, before he spotted movement not too far from Riven’s assigned location. 

He held off, watching as Sky noticed as well, and saw Riven and Sky take down the troll. They were too far down to hear what they were saying, but Riven’s shout of his name was clearly audible. Reaching into the pack at the small of his back, Timmy brought out the tranquilizer collar that would knock out the big guy. He sighed at the thought of leaving from under his launcher, clicking the safety on, and was about to roll out from underneath it when the collar was snatched out of his hands. 

His head snapped to the side in shock, nearly poking his eye out on his scope, only to see Stella’s fingers curled around the collar. She smiled radiantly at him, and then proceeded to hurl the thing right at Riven’s face. 

She clearly didn’t make the connection, or simply didn’t care that _throwing things while having a concussion_ didn’t equate to good aim. It was only Riven’s quick reflexes that stopped Sky from clocking out from blunt force trauma to the head. 

Timmy turned to Stella, aghast. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

“What?” she replied innocently - fakely. “You just told me to give support. I’m supporting.” 

With an astounded, short laugh, Timmy quickly took up his position again _._ He could breathe a little easier, now that he could trust himself to aid his friends, and not sit idly by. _He would not be a burden._

His lightened mood instantly fell when the six hundred pound ogre, forgotten, grabbed Riven by the ankle and was about to punch his lights out.

Timmy and Stella both fired at the same time. 

The combined force clearly stunned the ogre, and Riven was able to squirm out of its hold and incapacitate one of its arms. When the thing _grabbed Riven by the neck and squeezed,_ though, Timmy felt every muscle in his body tense, and he saw Sky sink into a crouch, weapon ready. His finger clenched on the trigger, ready to blow the ogre to hell. But he couldn’t, because the ogre was smart enough to use Riven as a shield in the direction where the blasts came from. 

He couldn’t fire, he realized with a terrible sinking feeling. Sky wasn’t moving either. Stella was frozen.

They could only watch as he struggled. 

Timmy’s eyes stung, and he forced down the lump that was rising in his throat. He’d only managed to detonate a few mines and fire a handful of shots. He couldn’t stop the troll from pounding into Sky - with the way he was limping, he’d either broken a bone or sprained his ankle. He couldn’t stop Stella from overexerting herself - she was the mission _objective_ and here she was, bleeding all over the roof and still fighting. He couldn’t stop Riven from being caught. Couldn’t stop his friends from being hurt. Couldn’t be useful-

Silver gleamed in Riven’s hand, and in the next second, the ogre bellowed in pain, and dropped him. Riven fell to the ground, coughing, trembling, and wheezing. Purplish blood dripped to the ground from the ogre's arm, the hilt of Riven’s knife sticking out of it. 

Everyone was frozen, waiting to see who would make the next move. 

And then three things happened in quick succession. 

The ogre took a step back, two figures emerged from the doorway, and an enormous energy sphere collided with the ogre, exploding immediately. 

____

Riven seethed in anger, knowing that he had to _move_ and aid Sky, to do _something_.

But the sheer force of the power, that damned flame, had him paralyzed. It was all encompassing, pressing down on his shoulders, his lungs, freezing him in place, and damn it all to hell, he thought he was over this. He couldn’t help but be reminded of the day he’d met Saladin, of the way his stupid child self had froze in shock and fear at the older, extremely powerful, wizard. He was doing it again, and the not-funny kicker was that this power was coming from a _teenaged earth girl._

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the deep roar of the ogre, and his eyes focused on the sight several meters away from him. The ogre was two feet deep in the ground, stuck. Probably by Timmy, courtesy of his impeccable aim. 

Taking a deep breath, he decided. He pushed past the uncomfortable curling in his belly, ignored the way he was sweating even though the air was chilly, and stood. Fuck that weird flame power; he had to help his friends. He had a mission to complete. Brandon was inside with the girl, and Riven trusted him to handle damage control. 

Taking out his phanto-dagger and bola, he walked into Sky’s range of sight and silently stalked forward, making sure that his steps made no sound, and that he stayed in the troll’s blind spot. Which wasn’t hard - the things were as dumb as they were big. 

Sky spun his spear, sinking into a crouch, a grin on his face. He locked eyes with Riven. “All right, ugly, ready?” 

Riven decided that he didn’t care that Sky was a prince, or that he was probably hurt somewhat-badly. He’d beat his ass for that one. “Who the fuck are you calling ugly,” he responded, a promise of pain in his voice. 

He didn’t give Sky a chance to respond. He’d already flung his bola at the troll, its thick wire wrapping around its ankle at least four times. Riven tugged, and the thing grunted as it fell flat on its face. 

Sky straightened from his crouch, but kept his spear out and at the ready. There was a carefree smile on his face, not scared of Riven’s threat in the least. “Took you long enough,” he said, and there was only a hint of annoyance there, underneath his laugh - it still made Riven wince, though. “What were you doing?” 

Riven swallowed past the guilt and shoved down the feeling of incompetence and his pathetic cowardice, and lied. “Waiting for the right moment.” He forced his voice to be as light and joking as he could make it. He hated lying, especially to Sky, who was so fucking happy all the time that it hurt. “Timmy!” he shouted upwards, desperate to get out of that conversation, to turn so that he didn’t have to look Sky in the eye. 

Seconds later, the tranquilizer collar sailed through the air, and Riven caught it easily. It was fine. Hold-ups happened on missions all the time - plans didn’t always go smoothly. They’d taken down the ogre and the troll, and he couldn’t hear any more screaming from the house. _Mission success,_ he thought, moving to snap the collar around the troll’s thick, blue neck. 

He really should have known it was never that easy. 

___________

Riven woke to the sound of arguing, muted and fuzzy in his confusion. 

He didn’t open his eyes, waiting for the world to seep in with all of his other five senses. Smell came to him first, acidic, rotten, and char, like something living was locked in a too-hot oven for far too long. From where his hands were, he could feel a scratchy fabric stretched thin over a hard floor. Something though, something insistent, was ramming itself into his skull from the inside, as if it was trying its best to either get his attention or split his head open. 

He realized what it was just as the sound started to filter in. That _thing_ was close, closer than it had ever been, and it was just as terrifying as it was when he was all the way in Magix. But that couldn’t be right, because they’d completed the mission, he was sure he’d tranqed the troll-

 _Oh,_ he realized. The ogre, choking the life out of him. The girl. 

The mission.

“-police going to think! What if they come back-” an unknown voice said, high and shrill. 

“They won’t,” someone else said hurriedly - Stella, his brain provided - “They were after me. Once I go, they won’t have any reason to come back.” 

“And-and you hooligans! Why are you still here? And the big blue- thing! Aren’t you some sort o-of monster-hunters?” the same voice said. A woman. 

“We… may be having transportation trouble,” he heard Sky say, and Riven could practically see him rubbing the back of his head in sheepishness. 

_Transportation trouble?_ Riven’s fingers twitched. They must be inside - which means someone carried him in - and as time went on, the pain in his chest and throat increased. 

“How did you guys get here, anyway?” Stella asked, and there was a small thud, like she’d sat down. “Timmy said the ship would take an hour. You made it in twenty minutes.”

“Saladin opened a portal for us.” _Brandon._ Calm, poised, always the voice of reason. “He said it would open back up when we needed it to, but…”

“Maybe there’s something you still have to do?” 

_Oh, fuck,_ Riven realized with horror. _I have to open the portal up again. And I blacked out on them. How long since-?_ His eyes snapped open, and he lurched into a sitting position. His head swam at the quick movement, and black spots clouded his vision. He grit his teeth, refusing to go under, and once he was seeing two of his knees instead of six, he looked up at the now silent people. 

Seven people stared back at him. His eyes flitted over each one, labeling them as friend or foe before moving on to the next. The troll hovered in the corner, pumped full of electric current. Sky, Brandon, Timmy, Stella, a blonde man he didn’t know, short and built, and a slim brunette hanging off his arm. Next to her was a girl, with fire red hair, blue eyes full of suspicion and curiosity as she studied him. 

He felt like he wanted to puke, laying eyes on her. She was tall, so tall that she towered over them, over the room, and he’d never felt so small in her presence. She could step on him if she wanted to, could easily snuff the life out of him with a single breath, and if something in the far corner of his mind didn’t say _breathe_ he would have passed out again right then and there. 

The feeling dissipated in a second, leaving him reeling with whiplash. A blink, and in the place of the terrifying presence, that _thing,_ stood a girl, short and slim, wearing simple, civilian clothes. She looked completely harmless, all pale skin and skinny limbs. _Bloom,_ his mind offered, recalling the name from when Stella had called. 

Heavens above, that felt like days ago. 

“How long was I out?” Riven asked, his voice scratchy and rough. 

“Seven and a half minutes,” Timmy responded almost immediately. Riven breathed out a sigh of relief. Not long, then. That was fine. He’d make up an excuse to leave, to get outside, and then report back a few minutes later that the portal had opened in a back alley somewhere. He stood slowly, nearly tripping over his cape as a wave of vertigo hit him. Brandon was suddenly beside him, hand locked firmly around Riven’s elbow, supporting his weight. Brandon, who was supposed to wait until the ogre left-

Shit. 

“Where’s the ogre?”

Brandon eyed him oddly. “Gone. Bloom hit it with an energy blast, and then it just vanished.”

Riven’s head snapped over to the redheaded girl, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. Stella said she didn’t know how to use magic at all, and vanishing spells were fairly complex - for freshmen Alfea fairies, at least. She shouldn’t have been able to manage that, which only meant that something else had done it. _I must be going crazy, because that’s bullshit._ Riven thought, and he swore he just felt his migraine double in intensity. _Ogres are magical beings, but they sure as hell can’t_ do _magic._

“Okay,” Riven replied slowly, sounding very much like he wanted to flip his shit. “Did you hit it with a vanishing spell?” he asked Bloom, and she must have sensed it, because she quickly shook her head. 

“Uh, no? I just…” she trailed off, and stuck her arms out. “Focused really hard on doing the energy thing I did before. It worked in the park.” 

He didn’t know what the fuck that was supposed to mean, aside from the very reassuring fact that Brandon, who was supposed to be doing _damage control,_ let the girl who Did Not Know Anything fire a blast at their target, himself, Sky, and in a populated area, to boot. 

He jerked his arm out of Brandon’s grasp, earning a confused and offended - Riven grit his teeth - look from the blond. “Wonderful,” he deadpanned. “How’d it vanish, then?”

“It clapped.” Stella said bluntly from her spot on the floor, staring at her nails, and Riven decided that he was done. He turned on his heel towards the door, and was halfway to it when Stella spoke up again. “Hey, where are you going?”

He didn’t bother to turn around, much less to stop. “A walk.”

“You can’t just leave!” At the hostile screech, Riven did halt, looking over his shoulder at the woman who spoke. The man next to her was holding his head in his hands, and Riven could sympathize with him. “Someone must have called this in, and the police are probably already on their way! What would they think if they just saw you walking around, dressed like that?”

During the span of her spiel, Riven’s eyebrow hiked upwards. “Look, lady,” he began, and he could already see Timmy slap a hand to his forehead and Sky mutter something under his breath that sounded like _oh, here it is._ “I can do whatever the fuck I want.” He ignored the scandalized gasp she made. “The mission is over. Nobody sustained serious injuries, and the threat is gone. I’m going to take a walk to clear my head because ogres shouldn’t be able to do magic, your kid apparently does too _much_ magic, and because that ogre almost killed me.” Riven made his way back towards the door, and with his hand on the knob, he turned back to the woman, who seemed to be shocked into silence. “Thank you very much for your hospitality,” he said mockingly, and slammed the door shut behind him with a resounding _bang._

“Ma’am, I’m so sorry about him,” he heard Brandon say through the door, and he snorted as he walked away, looking for a deserted alley to open up the portal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vanessa: GET YO FUCKIN DOG BITCH  
> sky, restraining riven: he don't bite  
> vanessa: YES IT DO
> 
> real talk: there's a reason why riven's feeling the thing he feels around bloom, and it's not the obvious one that immediately comes to mind. more on that later. way later.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again! i'm so sorry for how long this took. as an apology, this chapter somehow ended up being 11k words and 25 pages long? i kind of hate the first like 1/4 of this chapter, but eh. i've made you guys wait far too long. 
> 
> if you want to follow me on twitter for updates, my handle is @staydrabbles. i might start posting my own caged fanart there as well.

“Where are you going?”  ~~~~

Riven looked back over at Sky, whose arm was slung over Brandon’s shoulder. They’d gotten back to Red Fountain less than an hour ago; the others seemed to be headed straight towards the headmaster’s office, intending to report. Which was a load of stuck up prideful shit, considering that they were all time-lagged and both the Eraklyons were sporting somewhat-serious injuries. If Professor Duras hadn’t beaten it into them from day one that reporting was the  _ first thing  _ you did after a mission, maybe they’d use their heads and drag their asses over to Medical. He didn’t blame Duras, really - the concept was sound. Reporting in was your top priority, considering that in a serious situation, you’d at least have told your superior what they needed to hear to take further action. But they were sophomores, and it wasn’t a time of war; Saladin knew they were fine - well, for the most part.  ~~~~

Timmy had gone ahead, not having been injured. Brandon was a tad woozy from blood loss, and Sky was limping - a sprained ankle. It was all ridiculous, considering that they’d be submitting written reports a few days later anyways. Verbal was short and to the point, yeah, but Brandon was  _ bleeding all over the fucking floor.  _ The first thing Saladin would do when he saw them would be to send them to Medical, Riven knew for sure.  ~~~~

“Back to the dorm,” Riven replied, incredulous. “What, you guys are going to report  _ now? _ ” ~~~~

“Better to get it out of the way,” Sky replied cheerfully, as though he hadn’t been walking on a busted ankle for the past half hour. ~~~~

“Your loss. I’ll see you in a few hours for dinner, then,” he said, turning and waving over his shoulder at the two. ~~~~

“The longer you put it off, the more you’re gonna hate having to do it!” Brandon called after him, making him scoff. He knew he had to report. He’d left Saladin in a frantic mess, with nothing more than a shoddy explanation of what he was sensing. Riven was just smart enough to know that a few hours of sleep would help him focus. Slurring through a report - an important one like this, especially - would only increase confusion. Besides, the semester hadn’t officially started yet, and this mission wasn’t going to be graded. He could afford to procrastinate a little.  ~~~~

Slipping out of his uniform and into a more comfortable set of sweatpants and old shirt once he was back in his room, it was easy to fall asleep with the hum of Timmy’s computers running. He didn’t bother to set his alarm - Timmy would wake him when they made their way to the mess hall. The ache in Riven’s throat had lessened slightly, even though the bright purple bruises had not, but a quick pain relieving spell had fixed whatever remained in minutes. He was out like a light. ~~~~

_________ ~~  
~~

Dinner was hard, because swallowing _hurt._ The pain relieving spell didn’t last long, and using it too much messed with the nervous system. It didn’t help that it was ridiculously loud, due to the fact that the semester would start in three days, so students were piling in by the hour. Riven’s head throbbed as he shoved away his food and settled for a mug of tea. ~~~~

“So,” Sky whispered conspiringly, nudging Brandon. “Stella just texted that Alfea admissions accepted Bloom.” ~~~~

Riven groaned, because hell, he didn’t want to even  _ think  _ about that clusterfuck can of worms that girl had been. Brandon apparently did, though, because he blushed like a schoolgirl and started shoveling food in like there was no tomorrow so he wouldn’t have to speak.  ~~~~

Sky turned to Riven after realizing that once Brandon clammed up, there was no getting him to talk. “By the way,” he said, “Bloom apologizes to you on behalf of her mother. She said that she was very stressed at the situation and wrongly took her anger out on you.” Sky said the last bit in an overly polite tone, pitching his voice half an octave higher. ~~~~

Riven scoffed and brought his mug to his mouth. “Crazy bitch,” he muttered. He felt a kick to his shin, and turned to Timmy, who was staring to the side at the blank wall. “Fuck was that for?”  ~~~~

“Admissions doesn’t normally operate that quickly,” Timmy replied to Sky, ignoring Riven completely. “How’d she get in that fast?” ~~~~

“Stella’s dad,” Sky said airily, waving a hand like that was all the explanation he needed to say. It was, really - King Radius of Solaria was a very powerful man. Then again, most girls at Alfea were royalty, nobility, or of high social status, so Stella probably had to do a bit of begging at her father to make it happen.  ~~~~

“Oh.” ~~~~

Riven stood, abandoning his food and tea. “As incredibly enlightening as that was, I’m going to report and get it over with. This place is as loud as a witch rave, and my head’s about to explode.” ~~~~

“Have you been to a witch rave, Riven?” Brandon asked innocently, his blue eyes dancing with mirth.  ~~~~

He had. He told Brandon to fuck off anyways. ~~~~

________ ~~  
~~

Saladin took one look at his bruised throat and shooed him out of his office.  ~~~~

“The start of the year mixer is happening _in two days,”_ Saladin stressed. “Get over to Medical and sort that out.” ~~~~

“I know, I know,” Riven grumbled, “but I figured that I should report now and get it out of the way.” ~~~~

“As long as I have a detailed, written report on my desk before the first morning of classes, I won’t complain. You’ve always been better at writing than speaking, after all.” ~~~~

Translation:  _ I know it hurts to talk and you tend to swear like a sailor, so really, this is a win for us both.  _ Which was true, considering that Riven was professional enough to censor his writing, unlike his filterless, colorful mouth. Saladin probably just didn’t want to sit there and hear him gripe and curse for half an hour.  ~~~~

Well, he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’d write most of it up before the mixer. What could possibly happen from now until the next couple days? ~~~~

He really needed to stop eating his words. ~~~~

________ ~~  
~~

For formal Red Fountain events, students were required to wear their cream and navy blue uniforms. It was more of a traditional thing - appearing as a cohesive front to show their loyalty to their school and profession as heroes. It was still cumbersome, though, because the skin-tight padded suit was ridiculously hard to wiggle into. They still wore their heavy utility belts, but they were lighter than normal, as being armed to the teeth at a social event wasn’t good for the school’s reputation. The cape was a heavy, thick material, which weighed down on Riven’s shoulders, but he was grateful for the warmth he knew it would provide once he stepped outside into the chilly summer air.  ~~~~

Accessories weren’t banned at Red Fountain, as long as they didn’t get in the way of training. Necklaces were too risky - they could get caught and snag on anything, or could be yanked in a spar. Most boys wore tight leather cuffs on their wrists, studded with metals or pressed with custom words. Riven had one, a gift from Saladin that was identical to Helia’s. The smooth black leather had silver studs rimming both ends, surrounding a pressed rendition of Saladin’s family crest, a dragon’s maw opened wide around a lotus flower. They were also very practical; he kept a small switchblade snug between the inside of his wrist and the cuff.  ~~~~

A lesser amount of the school’s population favored earrings - simple studs or small hoops were common. Some boys had gages, their earlobes stretched. Riven himself had two silver hoops pierced through his upper left ear. Sky had small emerald studs in his lobes, but Timmy and Brandon refused to pierce their ears. ~~~~

Riven looked up from where he was adjusting his gloves to see Sky poke his head through his dorm door. “Hey, you ready?” ~~~~

“Just about,” Riven replied, checking himself in the mirror a final time as he smoothed back his hair. Normally he’d let his bangs hang free, but for the occasion he’d used a magical-enhanced gel to hold his hair back from his face. The top of his jaw was bare, and his forehead looked striking; his reflection seemed odd, somehow - different. He couldn’t help but run his hand through it, even though he knew the gel wouldn’t be mussed in the least. The bruises that ringed his throat and lingering pain were completely gone, courtesy of the head Medic and their emergency field professor, Sufelon. ~~~~

Sky had been idly chatting as they walked from their suite to the ship bay. Riven was only listening with half an ear as the shorter boy spoke of how he was one of the selected to carry the chest of gifts inside Alfea. It contained hundreds of enchanted eggs, one for each girl, which were set to shatter into living, light filled butterflies. It was cheesy enough to make Riven want to puke, but it was tradition. And if Red Fountain valued anything over  _ heroics and bravery _ , it was, without a doubt, tradition. (Their standard uniforms hadn’t been modified for decades.  _ Decades. _ ) ~~~~

Sky only shut up when someone bumped shoulders with Riven. Roughly.  ~~~~

Riven took one look at the thin face and ridiculously done-up hair and sneered. “Fuck off, Marcus.”  ~~~~

“Prince Sky,” Marcus simpered, ignoring Riven’s existence completely in favor of his friend. “Headed out so early?”  ~~~~

Marcus Vassezac was, in short, a rich boy in their year who rode on his daddy’s money and status to rise up through the ranks. He was weak as shit, got his lackeys to do his work for him, and had the face of a horse (complete with the elongated face, stringy and oily long black hair, and beady eyes). Nobody in the school had enough balls to seriously talk him down, considering he was loaded enough to practically send someone into the omega dimension if he cried to his father. Marcus liked to pick on him and Timmy, mostly; he tried to bully Timmy into writing his essays, and Riven because, in his eyes (and words), he was a street rat who was beneath his feet. ~~~~

Naturally, Riven didn’t give a damn, and decked the fucker in the face after two of his errand boys (read: slaves) cornered Timmy four months into freshman year. Marcus proceeded to pretend like Riven didn’t exist after getting his father to talk to Saladin about the ‘undisciplined, feral student who assaulted his son’ didn’t work -  _ ha!  _ As if it would. Marcus’s treatment was ridiculously petty and unoriginal; whenever Riven spoke, he’d make an offhand comment about an insect or pest making noise. ~~~~

“Yeah, we’re one of the first squads that were set to leave,” Sky replied cheerily, even though the smile on his face was so fake Riven almost laughed. “They’re actually waiting on us, so we have to hurry. Bye!” He threw out over his shoulder, power-walking down the corridor, dragging Riven behind him. ~~~~

They made it around two bends before Riven actually  _ did  _ laugh. “Did you see his nose? How is it  _ still  _ that crooked?” ~~~~

“Dude, shut  _ up, _ ” Sky hissed, although he was stifling his own laughter. “He might be able to hear you!”  ~~~~

“Nah, he was walking in the opposite direction.” Riven said, but he quickly confirmed that yes, Marcus the fucknut was well out of earshot with his senses. It was harder to pick up on signatures that weren’t magical, but still doable - actively possessing magic or not, everything emitted some sort of energy out that he could sense. It was easier with things that actually  _ did  _ possess magic, glaringly obvious like witches, fairies, pixies, or wizards. It only took a bit more effort to be able to sense ‘magical creatures’ - which was a broad category consisting of actual creatures, but also the descendants of active magic holders, like the majority of the students at Red Fountain. Active magic was a genetic trait; unfortunately, it tended to not favor the Y chromosome, opting to lie dormant in men, so wizards were rare. It sometimes favored certain bloodlines, though - Saladin's male ancestors were stock full of wizards, as were a few other old, noble families.  ~~~~

Which was why Saladin sought out Riven in the slums in the first place.  ~~~~

He quickly rid himself of the thought. He didn't give a fuck if his father was probably a noble who decided to screw around with his mother, who was most likely a prostitute. He didn't, really. He'd been living on his own from when he was four - that's when he ran away from the hole in the wall 'orphanage' in Magix, if it could even be called that. Saladin, after snooping into the orphanage, had found out that Riven had been there since he was two, meaning one of two things: either his mother had decided that she didn’t want him after two full years and dumped him there, or she’d died.  ~~~~

He didn’t care which it was. Honestly, it- ~~~~

“Riven?”  ~~~~

He jerked, snapping out of his downward spiral of thoughts.  ~~~~

They were in the ship bay. Brandon and Timmy were boarding a sleek flight cruiser, making a beeline to the piloting controls, passing by the enormous chest that was sitting in the middle of the ship. It was Sky who’d spoken up, looking at him like he was  _ worried,  _ his brows knitted over his brown eyes, frowning slightly.  ~~~~

Fuck that. “Yeah, let’s go.” He stalked past the brown haired prince, ignoring his comment of  _ but I didn’t even  _ say  _ anything _ . They were flying into Alfea with squad six, which consisted of three boys in their junior year. Which meant…  _ oh, please, no.  _ ~~~~

“ _ Riven! _ ” Came what could only be called a squeal. Riven promptly stepped to his left,narrowly avoiding a body that came crashing where he just stood.  ~~~~

“Jerry, hey.” Riven deadpanned, making no move to help the older boy off the floor.  ~~~~

Jerry turned and pouted, rubbing his head where he’d smacked it against the overseeing balcony railing, ruffling his coiffed, (dyed) bubblegum pink hair in the process. He claimed it was the peak of high fashion, which Riven could  _ maybe  _ see on a normal day, but it currently clashed horribly with his neon green eyeshadow.  ~~~~

“Rude,” Jerry sulked, but finally picked himself up off the floor. “I haven’t seen you in months, and this is how you treat me?” ~~~~

“No idea what you mean,” Riven retorted, boarding their ship. He nodded to Jerry’s squadmates, Terco and Jayce, who were sitting in the piloting chairs. He snorted at Timmy’s crestfallen look - of course the older students would claim dibs on flying.  ~~~~

Without having  _ anything  _ to do with his senses, a tingle went down his spine and he ducked, sending Jerry’s hand shooting past his head from where he tried to ruffle Riven’s hair. Jerry didn’t so much as  _ stumble _ , confirming his suspicions that the falling stunt he pulled a minute ago was purely intentional. Jerry winked a bright green eye as he walked by, making Riven grit his teeth as the older boy sauntered past. Jerry was tall as  _ fuck,  _ Riven thought, watching him wrap an arm around the back of each of the two piloting chairs, greeting his squadmates. Riven was a little above average height, which was saying something at an interdimensionally diverse place like  _ Red Fountain _ , but Jerry had almost half a foot on him.  ~~~~

“Don’t even know why the fuck he’s here,” Riven grumbled under his breath. “Not like he’s going to snatch a date at Alfea when he’s gay.” ~~~~

Brandon, who’d wandered towards him after realizing they wouldn’t be piloting, was the one to respond. “Actually, Jerry’s little sister is starting as a freshman this year. He’s attending to introduce her to some upperclassmen and help her settle in.” Riven didn’t even want to know how Brandon knew that - he and Sky were completely clammed all summer long, absolute radio silence, so how the hell did he know the inner workings of Alfea like that? It couldn’t have been from Jerry, considering that he was absent at dinner since the Eraklyons had arrived, and they’d all been together unpacking and setting up their suite until the mixer. Actually, he’d probably heard it from Sky, who’d heard it from Stella, who had been texting the prince non-stop. Riven stifled his lingering suspicion and settled to just raise an eyebrow at his blond squadmate.  ~~~~

“I heard that,” Jerry idly called back, not bothering to turn his head to look at them. He was entirely focused on the control panel, which had the start-up codes scrolling across the screen. Terco, a  _ much _ shorter boy with dark curls and a round face, twisted back to do a silent headcount, and then nodded to Jayce, who engaged the door-operating mechanism, the pistons hissing as it closed. Now that they were stalling as the engine warmed up, Jerry did peek over his shoulder at them, the glaring lights of the panel flashing bright blues and whites over his dark, coffee-tanned skin. “As much as you’re right, Brandon, I’m also going to dance with some of my gorgeous classmates.” He said this with a quirk of his mouth, pearl-white teeth flashing between deep, red-painted lips.  ~~~~

“Fucking knew it.” ~~~~

Jerry narrowed his eyes playfully at Riven’s remark, but seemed to let it go. He stood, letting his arms fall from around his squadmates’ chairs, and clapped his hands together sharply, the sound scaring Timmy, who yelped and nearly dropped his phone. “Alright! Buckle up, kiddos. Lift off in forty seconds.” ~~~~

“Leave the underclassmen be, Jerome,” Jayce said sternly. He stood from his chair, letting Jerry sit in his place, who strapped himself in and took over. Jayce was lean and tall, but only came up to Jerry’s chin. The light of the operating system made his long, ash-platinum hair seem bone white. He adjusted his glasses and turned towards Timmy, and they both sat in the closest two chairs, probably to discuss aspects of the computer club before the semester officially started.  ~~~~

Riven sighed and took to a lone seat, strapping himself in and closing his eyes. Brandon and Sky opted for the three-person bench at starboard.  ~~~~

They were told to fly slowly, so the five minute flight would now be a fifteen minute one. All for a school dance. He would have loved to stay in his dorm and finish up the report, or hell, take a nap, but he knew for a solid fact that Sky would have his head on a pike if he flaked on him.  ~~~~

So he crossed his arms and settled into his seat, glaring half-heartedly at the two Eraklyons who had their heads bent together, whispering about something he didn’t care the slightest about.  ~~  
~~

_________ ~~  
~~

They’d been sitting in the ship just outside the Alfea gates for half an hour.  _ Cohesive front my ass,  _ Riven thought.  _ Why did we come early if we were all going to walk in together anyways?  _ He’d voiced as much when Terco had refused to open the door. Brandon and Sky seemed to agree with him, Sky fidgeting in his seat, but he was now engrossed in his phone, a dumb grin on his face. Brandon was idly scrolling on his own device, Timmy and Jayce were talking together, heads bent over Timmy’s personal computer, and Jerry was touching up on his makeup. ~~~~

Which is what they’d been doing for the past  _ half hour.  _ ~~~~

Riven closed his eyes, and it was only years of meditation that stopped him from screaming. He was  _ never  _ agreeing to going  _ anywhere  _ with Sky. Ever again.  ~~~~

A ping sounded from the main panel, and a voice came soon after. “ _ This is squad ten. We’ve just landed. _ ” Riven immediately stood from his seat and looked outside the port window; he counted twenty-two other ships, some of which were already opening doors for disembarkment.  ~~~~

“Thank fuck,” he muttered, and ignoring the rest of the people on his own ship, scurried off  _ the second _ Terco engaged the door lock. Brandon called after him, but god, he needed to get off that cruiser before he murdered Sky. Never again.  ~~~~

He took a deep breath of  _ actual fucking air,  _ which calmed his agitation somewhat. Just a smidge. He had to take a minute to squash the urge to break into a jog - he hated sitting still with nothing to do. Being in a place where Jerry was constantly flirting, and listening to Sky giggling at his phone like an eight-year-old  _ did not help _ . He spent his time on the ship since landing stalking from the stern to the piloting chairs, and back again. Hell, he’d even started stretching. Now, with soil beneath his boots, he felt a little grounded, but still wanted to  _ move.  _ ~~~~

_ Never again,  _ he reminded himself.  _ Saladin wouldn’t like it if I murdered my squadmate at Alfea. Maybe when we get back to Red Fount- _ ~~~~

A heavy hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his homicidal thoughts. He hadn’t even noticed his hand twitching towards his belt. Whoops. “Whoa, someone’s got a scary look on his face,” A familiar voice said. “I didn’t do anything to piss you off, did I?” ~~~~

Twisting back to confirm the voice’s identity, Riven relaxed a bit. “Nah, Bishop.”  ~~~~

Riven liked Bishop. He was an okay guy; if they were squadmates, he’d probably be on the same level as Timmy. They’d actually been set to be in the same squad in the first three trial-weeks of freshman year, but Bishop had opted out when they were told they’d be paired into a four man squad with Prince Sky Eraklyos and Brandon Abrell. It had to do with politics - of  _ course  _ it did. Bishop’s realm was seriously anti-Eraklyon-legislation, which had been colonized by Eraklyon for decades. It made things a tad awkward when Bishop and Sky were paired up for spars or projects, but the dreadlocked boy didn’t take things personally. He wasn’t outright hostile or malicious, and kept things civil. ~~~~

“Cool, cool,” Bishop said, and started towards the gates of Alfea, following the other students who’d already begun entering the campus. Riven fell into step with him. “So, who did?”  ~~~~

“We flew in with squad six,” Riven muttered under his breath. It wasn’t really a lie, but he didn’t want to throw Sky under the bus like that and make it worse between the two. Even if Sky deserved it. ~~~~

“Jerry?” Bishop questioned, trying to not laugh and failing miserably at Riven’s sour expression. “You know he only does that to get on your nerves. If you ignore him, he’ll stop.” ~~~~

Riven didn’t have to answer, thankfully, because they’d made it inside Alfea. And god, it was so  _ noisy.  _ Not in the loud, thumping music, or the chattering and giggling and  _ squealing.  _ It was the people, the students, the fairies, their flickering magic, flaring with spells or lying dormant in their chests, their signatures wild and alive and laughing. It was too much, and it pressed down on his ears on all sides. He grimaced, drew in the deepest breath he’d ever taken, and exhaled slowly, pushing down on his ‘sensory button’ until it wasn’t  _ off,  _ but it was wavering between that and  _ on  _ precariously. It was damn annoying, having to keep it balanced like that - he didn’t want to shut it down completely, leaving him feeling empty and blind, but having it on full blast for just a few seconds was already giving him a migraine.  ~~~~

He was going to kill Sky one day, seriously.  ~~  
~~

________ ~~  
~~

He couldn’t see her anywhere.  ~~~~

Sky  _ knew  _ that Bloom would be here. He’d been sitting next to Brandon on the ship, and after seeing what he assumed to be pathetic looks on his face, Brandon paused his ongoing text-conversation with Stella to ask her if the  _ super pretty redhead from earlier  _ was going to be at the mixer. The second before Brandon pressed send, as the blond snuck a look over his shoulder, Sky made a noise that barely passed as human, but his squire had sent it before he could make a grab for the phone.  ~~~~

Stella wasn’t offended that ‘ _ Prince Sky’  _ had called another girl pretty; she probably assumed he was asking on ‘ _ Brandon’s’  _ behalf. And she had typed back almost immediately that  _ yes, brandon, she’s gonna be there.  _ ~~~~

Which kind of worried him, because it was  _ twenty minutes into the dance  _ and he swore he saw every single fairy he knew attended Alfea  _ except  _ for Bloom. She was either ghosting him, or she just wasn’t here.  ~~~~

The former churned his stomach a bit. But what did he expect, honestly? He only saw her for less than an hour in total, most of which was when she was traumatized from the attack and covered in blood. He’d only gotten to actually talk to her for about five minutes, when they were all just sitting in her house waiting for Riven to wake up and trying to figure out what to do.  ~~~~

It was nice, for those few moments. She’d shyly apologized for her outburst(s), and thanked him over and over for his help. It was surprisingly endearing, if not just a bit surprising - Bloom had used ridiculously powerful magic, and if he was on the wrong end of it, he’d be terrified. But when the adrenaline had died down, she seemed to mellow out and retreat into a metaphorical shell, the opposite of what she was not fifteen minutes ago. Sky didn’t blame her, with all the new revelations being thrown at her from seven different directions all at once. So he sat down next to her with about two feet of space in between them, and introduced himself again. And she’d turned her eyes to him, smiled softly, and started to ask hesitant questions, trying to figure out what she was about to jump into next.  ~~~~

It was only his strict upbringing of sitting up straight and proper, to never lose control of his tongue, that stopped him from stuttering through his answers. And she really  _ was  _ pretty, even with her ash-coated hair that framed her blue eyes nicely - just a shade or two lighter than his own. Her clothes were what he assumed was fashion on her planet, similar to the ongoing trends in Magix; a loose sweater that swam around her, tucked into high-waisted, form-fitting jeans. Nevermind that they were torn and bloody, it still made her shine in his eyes.  ~~~~

A small bump to his back nudged him out of his thoughts that Brandon would describe as  _ pining,  _ which he was  _ not.  _ ~~~~

He turned, then blinked. And blinked again for good measure, because the girl he’d been worrying over was rubbing her nose and wincing (really, she hadn’t even bumped into him that hard. He barely felt anything).  ~~~~

“Oh, hey!” Bloom said cheerfully, finally looking up to meet his gaze, and smiling nervously. She was wearing something similar to the outfit he’d seen her in in her home realm, except that with the cramped bodies and heated air, she sported a shorter-sleeved and hemmed deep blue shirt, revealing pale, skinny arms and an inch of the skin at her waist. It didn’t even cross his mind that she wasn’t wearing a dress or any sort of cosmetics like her peers.  ~~~~

“Hey yourself,” Sky finally said back, hoping his voice didn’t sound too hoarse. She smiled again, her eyes wide and warm, and he was about to open his mouth and ask if she wanted to dance or something equally as stupid, when she gasped lightly and blinked.  ~~~~

“Um, actually, I’ve got to go find Stella. Save me a dance for later, okay?” And with those parting words, she ran off and was quickly smothered by the crowd.  ~~~~

“...okay?” Sky answered to the music-thick air, the words not reaching anyone.  ~~~~

His shoulders slumped, and he heaved a sigh. At least she  _ did  _ want to dance, didn’t she? ~~~~

_________ ~~  
~~

Sky was in a corner pouting, Riven was being a grouchy wallflower, and Timmy was nose-deep into his phone. Griselda was resolutely guarding the punch bowl, glaring at anyone approaching who had their hands in their pockets or bags. Which meant the punch wasn’t going to be spiked, like it was last year. Last year’s mixer was a lot more fun - Brandon had danced with at least ten different fairies, one of which who’d slipped him a spiked drink, and then it got hazy from there. But he clearly remembered dancing with Stella multiple times, even through the alcohol-induced daze.  ~~~~

Now, though, Brandon caught a hold of her just at the start of the dance - she was wearing a long, elegant rustic orange dress that he was sure cost as much as his house. He’d just barely told her that she looked amazing before another girl yanked her away. Stella had simply rolled her eyes, but went along willingly, waving at him with a smile as the shorter girl dragged her out of his sight.  ~~~~

And that was a  _ while  _ ago. He and another sophomore had carried in the chest of eggs, and he now watched as a fairy he didn’t know cracked open the first one. At the burst of shimmering light, more were passed around to the Alfea students, and they cooed at the sight. He had to agree with Riven - it was cheesy as hell. But the girls seemed to seriously dig it. He strode by the chest to snag one, ducking past Jerry, who presented one to what he assumed to be his sister with an exaggerated bow and flourish, making her giggle.  ~~~~

Bumping through the throng of students, mindful to not crack the egg in his left hand, he made his way to the side entrance to the main hall, where he’d seen the dark haired girl in the red dress drag Stella into. Bingo. Stella was in a circle along with four other girls, facing away from him. Bloom was standing across from her, so she was the first one to catch his eye over Stella’s shoulder. Brandon - or rather, ‘ _ Prince Sky _ ’ - quickly pressed a finger to his lips as she was about to speak, miming a shushing motion, and Bloom’s mouth closed with a clack.  ~~~~

Stella was slightly hunched over, her elbow propped up on the shoulder of the girl next to her. The pink haired girl didn’t seem to mind, patting Stella’s back absently. It was easy for Brandon to come up behind her. He stuck out his left hand over her shoulder, bending his arm so the egg was presented a few inches from her face. “Gifts,” he said in a grand voice, making Bloom snort at his exaggerated tone, “from the school of Red Fountain. For you, my Princess.”  ~~~~

Stella jumped a bit, and quickly turned so she was face to face with him. “Oh,” she said, sounding oddly disappointed. No - dispassionate? “An enchanted egg.” Brandon blinked, a smile frozen on his face, as Stella reached out to take it from him, holding it like she expected it to bite her.  ~~~~

Before her other hand had made it halfway to the egg to open it, a smaller, pale hand snatched it out of her grasp. The girl who had dragged Stella away earlier was the culprit, holding the egg less than an inch from her face, her fingers holding her chin, in deep thought.  ~~~~

Brandon felt his smile twitch on his face, in tandem with his eyebrow. From an objective standpoint, the girl was pretty - dark hair wrapped up in twin buns atop her head, slanted eyes, and wearing a red, oriental-style dress. She was incredibly short, not aided at all by the flat shoes she wore.  ~~~~

Brandon cleared his throat. “If you ladies each want your own, I’ll be glad to fetch some more, miss…?” He trailed off, waiting for her to introduce herself at least, but she flapped her hand absentmindedly at him, still studying the egg, turning it from side to side.  ~~~~

“No! No, we’re good, really,” chirped up the auburn haired girl in the pink dress, who was nearly as tall as him. She smiled at Brandon apologetically, and opened her mouth to speak, but was promptly interrupted. By the same girl who’d snatched the egg.  ~~~~

Brandon exhaled very quietly.  ~~~~

“Hey, Flora, remember that magazine you lent me a couple days back? With the tundra spell in it?”  ~~~~

The auburn, Flora, gasped and lightly smacked her fist into her open palm. “Oh!” Her green eyes glittered with excitement. “That’s a great idea, Musa!” Shortie - Musa - stuck out an arm and offered the egg to Flora. She took it, but paused, pouting down at it as something seemed to cross her mind. “But I don’t know,” she muttered indecisively, “doesn’t it seem a bit...much?”  ~~~~

“Much?” The pink haired girl who Stella leaned on earlier said incredulously. “That was a teen fairy magazine, Flora.” She snatched the egg out of the auburn’s hands, pressing her fingertips into it. “Besides, don’t you remember what they just did?” ~~~~

Brandon was convinced that if he up and left now, none of them would even notice. “Um-” ~~~~

Stella was the one to cut him off this time, ignoring him completely. “Okay, ladies, we are seriously running out of time, and I’m going to be in deep shit if we don’t just do  _ something. _ ”  ~~~~

“Sorry,” all of them squeaked together, even Bloom, who hadn’t spoken or done anything, and was looking just as confused as he was.  ~~~~

“Fine, fine.” Flora said. She opened her hands towards the pink haired girl in the white-blue dress, who gave it to her with a shrug. “I’ll do the tundra spell.” She took a deep breath, her hands glowing a deep green, and recited an incantation that made absolutely zero sense to Brandon.  ~~~~

The light flickered away, and Flora slumped over, breathing out a sigh. “Bloom, you should go and get changed,” she said softly. Bloom opened her mouth, looking ready to protest.  ~~~~

“Yeah, girl, get going!” Stella said, taking hold of Bloom’s shoulders and giving her a shove. “We’ve wasted enough time already. See you on the dance floor,” she added, winking at Brandon as she strode past him. ~~~~

At that, Stella, Flora, Musa, and the pink haired girl whose name he didn’t know, moved past Brandon to re-enter the ballroom. As she passed him, Flora pushed the egg into Brandon’s chest with a bright “thanks!”, forcing him to take it or let it drop. He fumbled with it, and noticed that it was lighter than it was before. Dumbfounded, he stared at the retreating girls as the four moved together.  ~~~~

Brandon met Bloom’s eye, and she shrugged. Brandon fought the urge to throw the egg into the wall, wanting to see it shatter. Bloom must have seen it on his face, because she laughed, waved, then jogged away. ~~~~

He crushed the egg underneath his foot when she was gone. He wasn’t surprised when nothing came out. ~~  
~~

____________ ~~  
  
~~

It was loud. Really, really loud. More so when Faragonda tapped the microphone sitting alone at the stage, sending feedback throughout the whole room, making Riven wince.  ~~~~

“Terribly sorry for the interruption,” the Alfea headmistress tittered over the pounding music, “but we have songs to be sung, by one of my own students!”  ~~~~

They’d been playing trashy pop songs over the sound system up until now, ones that Riven had heard seemingly everywhere he went. It had been enough to nearly make his ears bleed, in addition to the cacophony of voices, laughing, and the overly-loud volume of the speakers. Having a live singer would probably be worse, if microphone feedback was going to happen again, if not the inability to actually sing. He grimaced at the thought, feeling his headache throb in advance. ~~~~

The crowd only quieted due to the headmistress’s feedback, and had risen up again the second she stopped. Nobody was really paying any attention to the still-empty stage, but Riven kept his eyes on it, spying glimpses of shuffling people. ~~~~

He wasn’t sure if he was seeing correctly when a girl stepped up to the microphone. Riven squinted somewhat; all he could make out was a silhouette, the stage lights having dimmed after Faragonda left.  ~~~~

The first thing that crossed his mind was  _ what the fuck is a kid doing here  _ because the figure was so, so short. He saw a strap go over her shoulder, and then her hands fumbled with the microphone stand, lowering it by a full foot.  ~~~~

And then a single stage light turned on.  ~~~~

Riven wasn’t that close to the stage, but he did have a clear line of sight.  _ Oh,  _ was Riven’s next thought. And the one after. And then:  _ Oh, that is not a kid.  _ ~~~~

The light caught the shine of her cherry-red guitar, nearly the same shade as the crimson dress she was wearing. The dress's hem brushed the floor, but there was a slit nearly all the way up to her hip,  _ fuck.  _ As his eyes (slowly) traveled back up, he took in the expensive-looking embroidery done in gold. The collar encased her neck, the zipper traveling at an angled zag. The sleeves ended just below her shoulders to reveal pale, pale skin.  ~~~~

And then his eyes flickered up the next inch, and he swore he felt his heart miss at least two beats. Dark, slanted eyes glittered underneath straight-cut bangs. The rest of her hair, jet black to the point that he saw glints of blue, were tied up in tight, twin buns at the top of her head, ruby hair pins decorating them. Her lips, the same color as her guitar, were slightly parted as she surveyed the people before her.  ~~~~

Fuck. ~~~~

Her eyes roamed the room, flickering left and right, and something in her face fell at what she saw. Riven blinked, slowly coming out of the stupor he’d been in like surfacing water, his thoughts still murky. Sound filtered back into his ears - when had it gone away? It was just as noisy as it had been a few minutes before. Few had taken notice of the new person at the stage, the gorgeous girl in red- ~~~~

-who now had a slow grin growing on her face. As her arm rose with something small and black held in her fingers, it clicked, and whatever spell (it had to be a spell) she’d put him under broke. ~~~~

His fingers jammed in his ears just as she brought her arm down, strumming a chord so loud that he felt the vibrations rattle down his spine. And fuck, that guitar was electric and  _ plugged in to the very loud sound system.  _ ~~~~

Riven internally counted to four, then removed his fingers. He was met with silence. Everyone had fallen quiet at the noise, and all eyes were on her (as they should be).  ~~~~

_ She should not be looking that smug,  _ Riven thought, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way her eyes crinkled in amusement. If the microphone wasn’t on, he expected that she’d be laughing.  ~~~~

“Hey!” she all but shouted exuberantly into the mic, and he could hear the undertones of laughter in that one word. There was not a single scratch or whine of feedback, the sound clear and loud. “I’m Musa!” The crowd murmured here and there, but stayed relatively hushed, waiting for her next action. ~~~~

A wide, genuine smile stretched at her mouth, and then she started to sing.  ~~~~

Riven felt like he was drowning in honey.  ~~~~

There was something about her voice, Riven mused, that vibrated at just the right frequency and hit the right pitch. Something that drew out the blood straight from his heart and pooled it in his face. Something about the way her eyes glittered, visible even from where he was standing, as she strummed her guitar with wide movements. Something about the way her mouth shaped around the heavenly notes.  ~~~~

Vaguely, Riven realized that he was covering the lower half of his face with his hand, fingers splayed over his burning cheeks and nose.  ~~~~

Fuck.  ~~~~

Something knocked into his back, sending him stumbling a step forward, snapping him out of whatever daze he’d gone into  _ again _ . He didn’t even know how much time had passed, how many songs she - Musa - had sung. She had stopped, for now; she was a little ways off from the mic, holding a bottle of water and laughing at something a girl next to her said.  ~~~~

Riven twisted back after he righted himself, a curse waiting on his tongue, and found one of his squadmates staring back at him. Sky’s brown hair was suspiciously mussed, and Riven saw what looked like lipstick smeared at the collar of his uniform.  ~~~~

Riven opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it, deciding he didn’t care in the least. He turned back to face the stage, crossing his arms. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw Sky roll his eyes, and the shorter Prince came to stand next to him.  ~~~~

He kept his eyes set straight ahead at the stage, but knew that Sky wouldn’t take the hint and leave. He wouldn’t even if Riven told him directly to fuck off. Sky, who’d been trying to make eye contact with him, gave up with a little snicker and followed his gaze.  ~~~~

And scowled.  ~~~~

_ That  _ was enough for Riven to do a double take, thinking that he’d seen wrong out of his peripheral vision. And indeed, Sky had an oddly sour look on his face. Riven followed his line of sight this time, expecting to see Jerry doing splits or something equally as ridiculously maddening. But no, it was still Musa on the stage, raising the microphone to its original height and slipping her guitar strap off her shoulder.  ~~~~

_ Huh,  _ Riven thought, looking back at Sky, and decided to bite. “The fuck is wrong with your face?”  ~~~~

“Nothing’s wrong with my face,” Sky replied. After a pause, his hands shot up to his cheeks and jaw. “Oh, wait, shit, do I have lipstick-?” ~~~~

Riven couldn’t help it; he barked out a laugh.  ~~~~

Sky stilled, then dropped his hands, lacing them together behind his neck. Still facing forward, he half-tilted his head towards Riven, meeting his eyes. “I hate you.” ~~~~

“No, seriously.” At Sky’s blank look, Riven jerked his head towards the stage.  ~~~~

Sky sighed, his shoulders slumping a bit. Riven couldn’t tell if he was brooding or not, but it still threw him off. “She’s one of Stella’s friends. Roommates, too.” ~~~~

Oh.  _ Oh.  _ ~~~~

“Oh,” Riven said stupidly. After a moment, he asked, “Wait, why does that bug you?” ~~~~

Sky muttered something that he didn’t catch at all, aside from the words that sounded somewhat like  _ egg  _ and  _ ruin.  _ ~~~~

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you from all the way down there.” Riven propped his elbow up on Sky’s shoulder, and leaned some of his weight into it. Sky wasn’t that short - an inch or two below average - but Riven was still almost a full head taller than him. Not that Sky was insecure about it. He handled quips about his height pretty well, laughing them off most of the time. Riven still liked to tease him about it, though.  ~~~~

Sky shoved at his arm half-heartedly. “I said fuck you very much.”  ~~~~

____________ ~~  
~~

Sky felt a tap to his shoulder. He paused, his glass raised halfway to his mouth, and narrowed his eyes.  _ If this is Brandon about to pour something over my head- ah, maybe not,  _ he thought, spotting Riven’s shock of purple hair next to Brandon’s brown some ways across the room.  _ Then who- _ ~~~~

Sky turned around- ~~~~

“Hi. I think you should have something for me?”  ~~~~

-and nearly upended his drink all over Bloom.  ~~~~

Wide eyes stared up at him, set in a flushed, small face. Bloom was wearing a number in blue, light, shimmering satin against dark ribbons. It was a modest dress, the only skin on display being that of her forearms and neck.  ~~~~

Her smile was nervous, her red-orange hair was messy and ruffled, and there was black smudged around her eyes. She looked like she’d been running - hell, she was breathing a little hard, too. Her hand hovered between them, finger still stretched from where she’d poked him. It was beginning to curl inwards, remnants of her words said to him- ~~~~

_ Save me a dance for later, okay? _ ~~~~

Sky didn’t think she was coming back. He had given up about an hour ago. He was about to open his stupid, idiotic mouth to say as much when his brain caught up and stopped him before he got the first word out.  ~~~~

With his lips pressed shut, he half turned away. Sky took a couple steps to the left, headed towards the wall of the ballroom. He wasn’t far from it, considering that he’d opted to lean against it while he waited (sulked).  ~~~~

Bloom’s face fell, her hesitant smile slipping. She looked absolutely crushed, the hand she’d extended now resting uncertainly against her chest. Her mouth opened, then slowly closed as her other hand came to clutch her arm, holding herself.  ~~~~

Sky watched her bottom lip tremble, then set his drink down on the table resting against the wall.  ~~~~

With both hands now free, Sky strode the first six steps that separated them. As he took the seventh, his right hand enclosed into a fist over his heart, his left loosely folded at the small of his back. As he took the eighth, he bent, his right foot placed forward, and offered her the hand that once rested at his heart.  ~~~~

“Might I ask for your hand to dance?” ~~~~

If there was one Eraklyon tradition Sky was suddenly grateful for, it was the ridiculous dance mannerisms he learned since he was six. His tutors had quite literally beat it into him, slapping his wrists with a flat, thin stick every time a mere  _ toe  _ was out of line. He recalled the Governess, looking down at him with her face half hidden in her sleeve, reminding him that to ask a lady to dance was equivalent to offering her a promise to your heart, and to botch it was insulting, as if she didn’t deserve even the suggestion of such.  ~~~~

He knew for a fact that if the Governess saw him now, she would be fuming. Sky was doing it wrong, and even better was the fact that he  _ knew  _ he was doing it wrong. He was wearing fingerless gloves, his hair wasn’t tied back, and he had at least ten weapons on his person. All of which were big no-nos within the strict function. ~~~~

If he were asking Diaspro to dance, she would turn her nose up at him and walk away.  ~~~~

Sky, still bent, peeked up through the curtain of his blond bangs.  ~~~~

Bloom’s hands were hovering over her mouth, and her eyes had a too-bright sheen to them that he recognized. She blinked rapidly, and after a beat, slowly moved one hand to hover an inch over his raised one, unsure of what to do.  ~~~~

Sky couldn’t control the smile that stretched his face.  ~~~~

Governess would be having kittens if she were watching. It was oddly endearing to see that Bloom didn’t mind his tiny mishaps - not that she knew what they were. Sky wiggled his fingers a bit, catching her eye. “You know, I can’t fully stand unless you accept or decline. It’s improper.” Tiny mistakes that he couldn’t control aside, he did want to do this appropriately for her.  ~~~~

“Oh! Um, sure?” Bloom was looking a hell of a lot more relieved now, the guilt that he’d seen clear on her face almost completely gone. Hesitantly, she planted her hand in his, and he clasped his fingers around her palm as he straightened from his bow-slouch.  ~~~~

Her skin was warm. ~~~~

With a gentle tug on her hand, she took a step closer, popping his personal bubble. Doing so, she had to tilt her head up to keep eye contact with him, a fact that shouldn’t have pleased him as much as it did.  ~~~~

The fire-haired girl seemed to have some sort of background with formal dancing, because she put her hand exactly where it was supposed to be on his shoulder. Sky went to place his left hand on her waist, but stopped before he made contact. “May I?” He inquired, staring deep into her eyes, blue pools so clear he swore he saw flickers of silver.  ~~~~

Bloom didn’t answer for a moment, mouth opening behind closed lips. After a beat where it seemed like she couldn’t find her voice, she nodded. Sky’s hand slid across the silk at her waist to rest at the small of her back. Even through the fabric, she practically radiated heat, warming his fingers.  ~~~~

There was still a healthy, polite amount of space between them. It was getting well into the night, and some fairies had already gone back to their dorms. As time had passed, the music had gone from pumping bass and pop to slow, soft music.  ~~~~

“Brandon?” ~~~~

Sky -  _ Brandon,  _ he reminded himself - looked down at Bloom. They’d been doing a slow shuffle for the past minute, her steps slightly wobbly and uneasy. Now, her head was bent, eyes glued to the floor. He hummed in response, and after a few beats of silence did she speak up. ~~~~

“I’m really sorry about making you wait. I didn’t mean to, honest.” At this, she  _ did  _ raise her head to meet his eyes. Bloom looked terribly guilty, brows knitted low over her eyes. She was biting her lips into a thin line, a gesture that made it seem like she was trying not to cry.  ~~~~

It tugged at his heartstrings a little.  ~~~~

He’d thought of reasons upon reasons as to why she wasn’t coming back, each more ridiculous than the last. For whatever reason, none of them were mean-spirited. She didn’t seem like the type to stand him up, but seeing her so guilty over her tardiness combined with her rushed appearance - well, Sky could easily make at least one connection; she’d tried to get here as fast as she could, disregarding whatever she was doing before that.  ~~~~

And so he laughed softly, but not unkindly. “Don’t worry about it,” he reassured her. She opened her mouth to protest, or to explain, but he gently cut her off. “Really. It’s fine.”  ~~~~

Bloom clearly didn’t want to let it go, but she stayed silent, mulling something over in her head as they continued to step around the ballroom. After taking a deep breath and releasing it, she softly relented with an “okay.”  ~~~~

The next half of the song passed somewhat awkwardly, both of them silent. Sky cleared his throat. “So,” he began, “were you having trouble getting ready?” ~~~~

She blinked up at him, most traces of guilt gone (thankfully). “No,” she replied, “why?” ~~~~

Sky eyed her ruffled hair and smudged make-up. “No reason,” he responded promptly, and a nervous laugh escaped him. “How are you liking Alfea so far? And Magix, for that matter?”  ~~~~

She hummed. “In some ways, it’s similar to home, but most of the time I feel like I’m way in over my head.” A sarcastic smile flickered on her face. “Mostly I’m just scared I’m going to bomb all my classes, though.”  ~~~~

Sky gently squeezed her hand. “Hey, don’t talk like that,” he rebuked lightly. “It’s only, what, your first day? Second?”  ~~~~

“First,” Bloom confirmed, her eyes hooding slightly. “Didn’t you start classes too?”  ~~~~

“The Red Fountain year always starts on the first tuesday of the month.” Sky tightened his grip on her when she half-stumbled on a step. She was wearing white heels. They didn’t seem too high, from what he’d seen by hanging around Stella, but it looked like Bloom wasn’t used to the boost. “I guess this year just happened to be after Alfea’s.”  ~~~~

“So tomorrow?” ~~~~

A strained smile twitched at Sky’s face. As much as he loved Red Fountain, he was  _ not  _ looking forward to adjusting to the grueling militaristic ways of his school. “0500 hours,” he confirmed. ~~~~

“Oh my god, Brandon, it’s nearly midnight.” Bless her heart, she actually looked worried for him.  ~~~~

“I’ll adjust,” he said with a soft laugh. “I’m serious, though. What classes are you struggling with? Our curriculums overlap a bit. Chances are I’ve already taken some of the classes you’re in now.”  ~~~~

“Oh. Wow, uh…” she trailed off, fidgeting a little, not meeting his eyes. The tips of her ears, barely visible through her hair, were red. Bloom cleared her throat. “Thanks, but unless you’re taking magical applications, charms, or hand-to-hand, I don’t think-” ~~~~

She cut herself off, and her hand twitched on his shoulder, as if she was about to lift it before deciding otherwise. Sky kept his mouth shut to hold in his laughter, but couldn’t stop the smile that grew on his face. “Right. Hero school,” Bloom muttered to herself, hanging her head in embarrassment.  ~~~~

“Well-” Sky said, and immediately slammed his mouth closed because he almost laughed outright with that one word. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Well, Red Fountain’s hand-to-hand is a lot more….demanding than Alfea’s.” Bloom peered up at him, her face flushed red. “But I know Elway. She’s a great instructor, and her learning curve isn’t too bad. You’ll be alright.” ~~~~

“Brandon, I’m built like a noodle.”  ~~~~

Sky laughed at that, loud at first before he smothered it at the looks it gathered.  _ A pretty fine noodle, yeah.  _ ~~~~

“Aside from my inability to run laps on the first day,” Bloom continued, muttering, “I also have no idea what’s going on in history.”  ~~~~

He quickly sobered up, sympathy building. Bloom was from a completely different dimension - she didn’t even know this one existed a week ago. History in particular was meant for those who were already familiar with it. It was a broad, subjective topic when considering that the student body was incredibly diverse, but the overarching dimensional movements and records were known among most.  ~~~~

“I’m sorry,” he said. “If you want, I could help- well, bring you up to speed.” Sky himself was exceedingly good at Eraklyon’s political and social history. A bit less so for the general history they taught in Magix, but he aced his classes (he had to).  ~~~~

“That would be amazing,” Bloom replied in a rush. “I mean-” she stuttered, hands twitching on his own fingers and shoulder. “I could always ask my roomates, but we’re not that close yet, and I wouldn’t want to impose on them - not that I want to impose on you, I just-” ~~~~

Sky had to (gently) cut her off again. “I’d be happy to help.” Really though, he was actually happy that she implied that they were closer than the people she was living with. For now.  ~~~~

“-and it wouldn’t be for long, I actually like the concept of history, but it’s like I’m starting on book three without having read one and two, and… oh, you agreed.”  ~~~~

“Yes, I did.” ~~~~

Bloom flushed at her rambling, ducking her head to a random point over his shoulder. The silence that engulfed them after she muttered a quiet “thanks” was comfortable, as opposed to the awkward one from earlier. Her steps started to slow, until their ‘dancing’ was reduced to a simple sway. Sky would have been offended had he not realized the symptoms of exhaustion earlier - hooded eyes, sluggish movements - as well as the fact that it was far too late into the night. He was content just to stand with her, ignoring the slow bustle of students surrounding them.  ~~~~

“I grew wings for the first time today.”  ~~~~

Sky tilted his head down from where he’d been staring over her hair. He could feel her breaths, warm and soft, against the exposed skin of his neck above his collar. It seemed as if she’d unconsciously drifted closer to him, the awkward distance at the start of the dance now reduced to a mere couple of inches. She wasn’t looking at him as she spoke, her eyes open only slightly, staring at nothing.  ~~~~

“That’s wonderful,” Sky responded, spoken equally as soft. And it was, really - he wasn’t saying it to simply be polite. Bloom had only activated her magic only a couple days ago. It usually took weeks or months for a transformation to manifest for fairies. “I’d love to see it sometime.”  ~~~~

Bloom exhaled a laugh, a warm puff of air that hit his throat. “It’s, uh - it’s kind of skimpy, but sure.” ~~~~

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” Sky replied. “Your transformation is your magic itself at its most raw wreathing you. It’s a reflection of your power at its core - it's probably amazing.”  ~~~~

“Oh.” Bloom’s voice came out heavy, with a slight rasp of exhaustion hinting at the edge. “I didn’t think of it like that.” ~~~~

They were so close to the point that if Bloom wanted to look at him, she’d strain her neck, so she was eye-level with his shoulder. Sky couldn’t see her face, but he was pretty sure she was falling asleep. She was still trying to dance, funnily enough, but the swaying was probably lulling her sleep even more. It was surprisingly charming, seeing her head snap up slightly at intervals, breaking her out of a doze.  ~~~~

“Hey, Bloom?” ~~~~

“Mmmm?” ~~~~

“It’s getting late,” Sky murmured. Some Red Fountain students were beginning to leave, and nearly half the fairies had already gone. Sky caught Riven’s gaze some ways off - Brandon had left him at some point, and now his squadmate, alone, was staring at him and Bloom with his arms crossed. When Sky made eye contact, Riven nodded his head towards the exit. Sky lifted his hand from where it rested on Bloom’s back, and held up three fingers. Riven didn’t make any indication of affirmative; he just walked away, joining Timmy from where he stood near the doors. Sky lightly placed his hand on Bloom’s shoulder blades, higher up than before. “Do you want me to walk you back to your dorm?”  ~~~~

Bloom raised her head, looking around the half-empty ballroom, noting the lack of students. Apparently Sky was mistaken - she was awake enough to realize that he had to leave, as well. “No, I’ll be fine.” She slowly pulled away, leaving lingering traces of warmth on his hands. “Thank you for tonight, Brandon.”  ~~~~

Right. Brandon. Sky wasn’t sure if the chill he felt was from the loss of her heat, or her words. “Of course,” he replied, his face not revealing his thoughts.  ~~~~

Before she could turn around to go, Sky spoke again. “Could I have your number?” It took a moment for his words to register in her sleep-addled state, but when they did, she flushed, her eyes widening slightly. “For history,” he added.  ~~~~

Bloom coughed into a fist. “Right! Right,” she said hurriedly. “I actually don’t have it memorized yet - I had to get a new Magix number,” she added, seeing the bewildered look on his face.  ~~~~

She wasn’t turning him down -  _ it’s for tutoring, why would she?  _ \- but Sky still hesitated a bit before reaching into his utility belt, coming up with a pen and paper.  ~~~~

“Wow,” Bloom said, watching him, half exhausted, half amused. “You heroes really have everything prepared, don’t you?”  ~~~~

“Of course,” Sky replied airily. “Who knows when the mighty pen might save a life?”  ~~~~

She laughed softly as he scrawled his own digits on the scrap of paper, pressed into the palm of his hand for leverage. He’d unconsciously written an ‘S’ at the top of the paper, but quickly turned it into a ‘B’, followed by ‘randon’, chastising his stupidity. He’d have to get used to stop signing his own name - spending the summer back home had him falling back into old habits. Sky offered her the slip with one hand, the other tucking the pen back into his belt. “Here’s mine,” he said, watching her take it with long, elegant fingers. “Text me when you want to meet up, or if you need anything, really.”  ~~~~

“Okay,” she replied, soft. “Thanks aga-” ~~~~

A flash of orange and yellow rushed at Bloom, and Sky flinched, reaching for the hilt of his sword that wasn’t there.  ~~~~

“Bloom, girl!” Stella all but shouted, an arm around the shorter fairy’s shoulders. “We’ve got to get back - I’ll take her from here, Brandon, thanks!” And then she was nudging Bloom towards the exit, and Sky swore he heard her mutter something that sounded suspiciously like  _ finally  _ under her breath as she passed him.  ~~~~

Stella really was something else. His hand was still hovering over his belt, for god’s sake.  ~~~~

Sky heard familiar footsteps he’d recognize in his sleep a second before Brandon was standing at his side. His squire was staring at Stella, an oddly half-accepting-half-defeated look on his face as he spoke. “They tend to do that.”

_____________

Riven suspected that the universe may have just hated him or not, but it sure felt that way. He didn’t know why the hell he kept reacting to Bloom’s magic so strongly - he’d have to ask Saladin if he was as well. Nevertheless, he rubbed his temple as he felt the fire pulse with a strength it never had before, rising and swelling.  ~~~~

They were at a  _ school dance,  _ for god’s sake, so why the fuck was he feeling Bloom do  _ flaming cartwheels just outside  _ or whatever the fuck she was up to. It sure felt like she was doing stupid shit.  ~~~~

As people started to leave, tired and drowsy, he’d slowly opened up his senses a little more. Keeping them muffled felt stifling - he’d rather handle a little headache than stuff them. It was just his luck that not two minutes after he’d started to let loose that Bloom decided to parade around.  ~~~~

Riven closed his eyes and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to quell the spike of pain behind his eyes. She’d obviously powered down since then - he spotted her dancing with Brandon not too long ago - but the lingering pain was still there.  ~~~~

Behind his closed lids, a bright signature was walking in his direction, pulsing softly, but oddly calming. He paid it no mind - it was probably a fairy headed to the punch bowl.  ~~~~

He shouldn’t have disregarded it so soon, because it ended up crashing right into him.  ~~~~

It didn’t hurt, nor did it topple him over, but still took him by surprise. Riven’s eyes snapped open, but found nothing in front of him. He turned his head to the right, and then to the left - also nothing. He clearly didn’t imagine the collision, because he could still sense the same signature in his personal bubble. A clatter caught his ears, something falling to the ground, and he followed the sound, glancing down.  ~~~~

A dark head, two buns resting atop of it, was slowly moving away from where it had run into his chest. A small, pale hand rose to rub at its forehead. The head tilted up, and Riven found himself staring at Musa. Up close, he could see that her makeup was smudged at the edges, and that her hair buns were starting to sag. He also caught sight of small, hollow gages in her ears, half an inch wide.  ~~~~

Her dark eyes narrowed at him as her hand fell from her bangs. “Could you maybe watch where you’re going?” she accused, glaring. ~~~~

“Me?” Riven spluttered. “I was stationary. You ran into me.” He couldn’t believe the  _ nerve  _ of this girl- ~~~~

Musa didn’t seem to be listening. She opted to crouch onto the floor, snatching up her phone from where it had fallen. A crack splintered it’s way across the screen, jagged. “Great,” she sighed. She started blankly at her phone for a moment - it could still turn on, apparently - before looking up at him from her perch on the ground. Musa heaved another sigh like she’d taken on a great load. “Sorry,” she muttered.  ~~~~

“I didn’t catch that. Come again?” Riven crossed his arms, staring down at her. Crouched down as she was, she was a tiny ball of crimson and black.  ~~~~

Rolling her eyes, she stood. She brushed off the skirt of her dress, making the slit flare for a moment, a flash of pale skin. Riven’s eyes darted up to her face. “I’m. Sorry,” she enunciated clearly, pointing a finger at him before stuffing her phone into her clutch bag. It nearly made him snort - was she trying to be intimidating? It clearly didn’t work - the top of her head didn’t even reach his shoulder, she was so short.  ~~~~

“Sure-” ~~~~

“Musa!” ~~~~

The girl who’d shouted was several feet away to Riven’s right, dressed in pink and green. The auburn held two glasses, one raised to get Musa’s attention.  ~~~~

Musa took a step towards her friend before pausing to look back at Riven, eyeing him up and down. He thought he saw a smirk quirk her lips before she turned away, gone in a flurry of red.  ~~~~

Riven felt the beginnings of a smile stretch on his face before he cleared his throat, glancing down at his watch. He waved down Brandon from where he was dancing with Bloom before making his way to Timmy. Jerry’s squad was nowhere to be found - they were probably already on the ship. They’d have to get going soon.  ~~~~

Oddly enough, Riven let Sky bug him all the way back to Red Fountain, the previous urge to strangle him absent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: this is riven centric fic  
> also me: okay but write a 10 page skoom fluff scene  
> me, in tears: fine
> 
> i'm really sorry, i love sky almost as much as i love riven. i know i tagged that this would be an alternating pov fic, but i can't help but mostly write it from sky and riven's perspectives.  
> oh, do you guys like the new characters?? i'm excited to write them more as this fic goes on!  
> also :) i realized that with the length this fic would be, i'm going to do what other ao3 authors are doing and split this into a series by season :) so i took out the aisha and nabu character and relationship tags :) but i left the flora/helia tag :) just saying :)


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